


Hands Out In The Dark

by XtaticPearl



Series: Like Lovers Do [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Eventual Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, POV Steve Rogers, Past Relationship(s), Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Slow Build, Steve Rogers Feels, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-05-20 20:05:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19383781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XtaticPearl/pseuds/XtaticPearl
Summary: Steve doesn't hope for the best after they fail to retrieve the stones and instead watch Thanos die. He says he does, for the next five years, but he needs a lie to keep himself going and this works. Until they find a chance to turn it into the truth, to save the world and bring back what was lost. The victory comes at too high a cost though, and he goes to return the Stones thinking that the worst was done. Instead, he finds out that sometimes bad times aren't permanent and beginnings can stem from endings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashes0909](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/gifts).



> There are people without whom this fic wouldn't have seen the light of day - Jen, Kierna, and Stef you guys saved my sanity. This story began with a different motive in my mind, but like all tales go, the plot went where the plot wanted to go. I hope you're buckled in for a long ride because this one sure is one of those. Good luck and thank you for reading!

The yellow grime stuck to their boots even as their feet stood grounded to the same spot, a few feet away from the freshly covered mound. He watched Nebula brush her fingers over the rock standing over the freshly covered area, blue fingers skirting over dark stone in hesitant grief and didn’t think about percentages. Or probabilities. There was nothing left for the head and it was a terrible joke, an irony not worth any mirth but maybe he was broken. Maybe a severed head buried by those who made its end possible was the least funny idea but failures found no shame in falling lower.

He distantly ran through possibilities in his mind of reactions if she would throw up like he had three weeks ago feeling dust under his palms. It wasn’t going to happen, considering that she didn’t have that simple a set of emotions about the whole deal.

There were no tears shed and no words spoken but the silence around the little spot dug in the backyard felt grave enough. The Garden had the same soil as an Iowa farm, Steve observed as his fingers gripped around the shovel. In the fading horizon’s light, Natasha shifted her shovel from right to left, hands steady even as her eyes were scanning the area over and over. Field, trees, scarecrow with that damned armour - it was lifeless and useless but Steve knew that he didn’t need to say that.

“We need to move,” he heard and turned right to see Rocket eyeing Nebula for a second before looking at Steve, the gun still in hand from when he had picked it up hours ago, “Rhodes and Danvers got the signal through to Banner, they’re waiting for us. We’re done here.”

It’s not a question and Steve observed the eyes shifting back to Nebula with a grimace before Rocket turned around without another word. That seemed to be happening a lot recently, people walking away.

Nebula looked back and nodded once at Natasha, standing up from her crouch to walk towards them with her dark eyes devoid of any moisture.  She glanced at Steve’s shovel for a beat before looking over his shoulder at a distance, towards the clearing where they had parked the ship.

“He isn’t coming back,” she said and it could be a lot of people, many were not coming back, but Steve could see who she meant, “Are you going to track him?”

_ I went for the head _ .

“Not today,” Steve turned away from Nat and let the shovel fall, iron hitting the ground with a soft thud beside his feet, “Let’s go.”

“Where do we go from here?” he heard Nebula ask but he had already started walking, dry sand holding his goodbye to a lost chance.

He still heard Nat reply though and didn’t turn around at the echo from a few hopeful months ago.

“Home”

_ Benatar _ felt slower on their way back, Carol choosing to visit Xandar instead of coming along and the empty seat beside Rhodey feeling a little hollower than before. The flashes of crackling lights hit closed eyelids as Steve shut himself off from conversations or sights, company only to silence during the journey. 

The ship landed with less grace than its take-off and Natasha broke routine to get out first, Rocket trailing right on her tracks with Nebula shooting Steve and Rhodey a shuttered glance before following. He eyed the opened hatch, control levers in dusky tones and scraped paint along the baseline - an old trooper refurbished with cobbled bits of genius. It was simplistic to the naked eye, the shuttle, but the power was anything but. The Guardians had won trickier battles, outrun tight-knot traps in this and Rocket had the ease of an engineer confident of the knowledge when he had taken them up. The exhaustion dropped into his bones, seeping in from flexed leather under his gloves into bruised hands, and Steve could remember an older time when he had felt the same way in another ship. A more familiar one, with a more familiar engineer being the last companion. 

Victory hadn’t tasted sweet then either. 

“Hey,” the clicks of armoured joints accompanied the sole Avenger remaining and Steve pressed release on his seatbelt, not letting his shoulders sag at the hand that landed on his shoulder, “About what I said with the burial, it’s not a fault.”

Steve looked up into Rhodey’s exasperated but tired expression and brought up his own hand, patting the gauntlet on his shoulder once. 

“You weren’t wide off the mark exactly,” he pointed out with a dry quirk of his lips and rolled to his feet, hand half reaching for a nonexistent shield beside him before he moved down from the seat into the space Rhodey had given.

“Don’t get me wrong, I still think you guys made him out to be a lot more human than the bastard was,” the faceplate completely rolled down into his armour and Rhodey shrugged a shoulder even as he had traces of a lost humour on his face, “But I get why you did it.”

“I don’t think I understand it but he was Nebula’s father,” Steve nodded and fell into step as they turned to walk.

“I’ve seen plenty of dads like that and honestly, Cap,” Rhodey glanced at him before looking ahead, “Thanos was no parent. Nobody’s going to regret what happened to him one bit.”

“That’s fair,” Steve felt the vibrations of the armour hitting the ramp as they walked down and could feel the bitterness swamp his chest as he squashed down any regrets from before Thanos’ death, “But she helped us. There’s not much we can help her with after this.”

“She could join us,” Rhodey pointed out, though it came out more as a mildly confused question and Steve didn’t stop, feet marching on even as his answer fell away unvoiced. 

_ Which us _ , he didn’t say and it still seemed that the other man’s perception caught on as they devolved into silence for the remaining journey back inside. 

The white light bathed the corridors in a sterile coldness as they walked through to the med bay and he wouldn’t have diverted if Rhodey hadn’t stopped him with a hand on the arm, making Steve look at him and follow his gaze to Bruce standing by the holotable in the rec room. 

“Hey Steve,” Bruce sounded half-heartedly soft and met Rhodey’s eyes with a bitten back grimace, “So, uh, I heard.”

“Yeah,” Rhodey turned towards Bruce completely and eyed the table before looking up at him again, “He’d destroyed them before we got there.”

“And Thor,” Bruce paused before reframing the thought in his mind, “He’s - okay?”

“We’ll ask again when he’s willing to answer,” Steve replied before his eyes turned around and he frowned with a growing intuition, “Is Tony okay?”

Rhodey seemed to read Bruce’s hesitation with quicker realization and lowered his head for a moment, eyes shutting for a beat. Oh. Of course. 

“How did he leave?” Steve asked with a dawning sense of twisted dissatisfaction warring with unacknowledged relief. He had always been most affected by facing only few people after a disappointment and this had an aftermath he hadn’t even begun to unwrap. 

“The nanovirus worked to throw the sedative off sooner than calculated,” Bruce scratched at his forehead as he looked older than the years should have afforded him, “Pepper had the choice to either drive him away or risk him walk himself.”

“He would have,” Rhodey declared under his breath, keeping his gaze trained in Bruce’s direction so he wouldn’t have to see Steve for the moment, “It’ll be fine. He’ll just need some time to recover.”

_ We’ve all gotten worse at lying to ourselves _ , Steve averted his sight and caught his own reflection on the sheen of the full length glass windows as the thought settled between his lungs. One exhale and the convex of his suit’s star felt padded by years of discomfort, his palms still warm from an abruptly thrust reactor’s last ticks. One inhale and he was back to being Steve Rogers. 

“Will he have the medical facilities available?” he asked, tongue curling around the words that blocked the ones that could have escaped. Bruce nodded but with a pause too late for confidence. Steve sighed and resisted shaking his head

“Cap”

“You could go,” Steve suggested, holding Bruce’s gaze, “He needs you more than us right now, Bruce. If you need to be there, you should go.”

“Does he know?” Rhodey asked and Steve looked over at him but the man was facing Bruce, “About Thanos?”

“I didn’t have to tell him,” Bruce answered, pulling his light jacket closer, dark eyes pained, “He’d calculated things.”

“He always did,” Steve tilted his chin up and ignored the sigh he heard from Rhodey in return, “Bruce? What do you need to do right now?”

Bruce looked between both men before nodding once, hands clasped in front of him with the dark sleeves creased at the cuffs.

“I was going to go once I had - well, once everything was ready,” he admitted, glancing down before meeting Steve’s eyes, “We tried, right Cap?”

“He didn’t have the stones,” Steve replied and he knew that it wasn’t the answer, not one that mattered but he didn’t have a better one that would spare anyone further guilt. It was all he had left anymore, keeping blame away from heavy shoulders, and for a second he imagined Thor in the room too. He blinked and it was just light spilling through the windows, casting shadows of disappearing forms.

Bruce didn’t ask anything more and Steve let Rhodey talk to him about other things as both men walked out, tuning out of the present in an empty room. His hands reached back to rest on the nearest surface and Steve lifted it off the metal mantle, fingers shaped into the residue he had disturbed on top. 

“There’s just too much damn dust,” he observed quietly and the fact didn’t echo a reply back to him. 


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t odd for the sounds of kevlar and leather taking the brunt of frustration to come from the gym before dawn entered the grounds completely. A few years ago there would have been his own skin delivering those hits on the off days but things seemed to have broken pattern now. Steve rolled his shoulders and felt the kinks twinge between his blades, the perils of an abrupt shift in sleep schedule calling him out through his body’s complaints. Beds had not been his friends for close to a decade now but something about the last week made them the only spot he really wanted to frequent. It wasn’t like there was anyone to begrudge him that either, so Steve had taken to being a human caterpillar under the cocoon of non-judging duvets.

His toe brushed the door’s frame before the gym opened to him and his eyes found the source of the sounds even as his ears tried to shut-out the missing voices.

The freestanding bag wasn’t her usual choice of workout but some days weren’t purely exercise as much as the need to exert. The leather was reinforced for the superhuman opponents it faced but he could make out the indents of fists and feet slowly beginning to set in as Nat went at it without relief. Hit, kick, thwap of an arch, precision didn’t let up as Steve watched her let practice flow through.

He was at the end of his stretches when he caught Natasha deliver a perfect turning kick before turning on the ball of her foot, balance unfaltering and finishing it off with a sharp hook kick.

“Catch any tips there?” Natasha wiped the sweat off her chin and looked over her shoulder, blonde hair sticking to her forehead and skull with sweat lending them a darker hue.

“You could have gone higher with the last side,” Steve quipped, getting to his feet with a smooth exhale, offering a half-shrug, “Too slow, Widow.”

“Someone’s slow alright,” Nat peeled off the velcro from her wrapped hands and turned to walk towards the bench, “Late mornings becoming the norm there, Cap?”

He started towards the jumbo bags but paused while passing the speed balls. He could change up a bit.

He heard a quietly thoughtful huff behind him but focused on tightening his wrap, rolling his shoulders once more before he faced down the quicker challenge. The cotton of his sleeves were looser on the biceps than they would have been before and the knot under his gut sat twisting tighter with complete awareness of the sounds of his companion moving in the background.

They didn’t talk about it, the stretching tension of conflicted wires that roamed loose in the air with just two people trying to fill endless untouched empty rooms. Steve heard Natasha field calls from councils, volunteering the service of Avengers for incidents that weren’t happening anymore. Natasha scraped her spoon louder against the bowl of stew with every night Steve made it, eyes finding his face with a concerned expression that was bleeding into annoyance steadily even if Steve didn’t look up.

She was pushing, ahead and above, into any direction she could to keep kicking.

Steve – he was sinking with practiced ease of a trusted anchor.

They were fine, friends and lost in a shared misery, but fine was teetering on the edge of a chasm with every passing day.

It wasn’t too long till words fell on the wrong side of a conversation  
“Why not?” Natasha demanded and it did shape into a demand in Steve’s ears even though they were sitting companionably on chairs set apart by the oak shaded sofa set that Wanda had once monopolized.

It felt like that had been an entirely different life and the frustration spun through Steve’s veins further.

“Because it’s pointless,” the words curled around Steve’s teeth sharply and he leaned further into the leather of his seat, “We’ve done this before and then we _had_ options.”

“We still have options, Steve,” the cup tilted as it came to rest on the jute coaster, tea skimming the edges of ceramic before settling in and Steve could sense _everything_ with an itching pressure on his skin, “Rocket and Nebula can work on intergalactic operations, Carol can call us in if there’s something needed, we have Rhodey, Cl –”

Natasha bit back the words, choking down the name she wouldn’t utter since they had first got news and the pressure scraped down Steve’s skin.

_Say it. Say what he’s become. What we turned him into._

“And Clint,” Steve had vipers nesting in his chest and it wasn’t fair, nothing was, but he went on, “Bruce”

There was a chilling storm in jade eyes for a flash before Natasha blinked, expression tightening even as she mirrored Steve’s posture.

“I know you’re frustrated -,” she began but Steve shook his head.

“This isn’t about me”

“I’m shocked,” Natasha said smoothly and Steve got to his feet, taking a few steps towards the kitchen to try and make sense of the chaos beneath his skin.

“We’ve already done the worst, Nat,” he said and the smooth kitchen counter looked welcoming for cracks but Steve couldn’t, he couldn’t transfer his own mess onto everything else, “The world doesn’t need the Avengers again.”

“This isn’t you talking,” Natasha’s voice resounded like the tail-end of a whiplash, “Steve, you aren’t thinking straight if this is what you’re coming to.”

“And you are?” he countered, skipping the glassware and going for the metal tumblers to pour his fifth coffee of the day, “Because it sounds like you’re getting a lot of refusals for the idea.”

“Just because it’s one dead-end doesn’t mean it’s the end.”

“The -,” Steve didn’t mean to but a laugh steeped in bitterness fell away, “Nat, we came away with ashes and a severed head. The end was pretty clear. We need to move on.”

“There has to be something”

“It can’t exist just because you want it to!”

“We can’t _not_ try just because you don’t trust yourself, Steve!”

“We tried!” the silence echoed with his declaration and he put the coffee pot down on the counter half-empty. Everything was drained, a void crept into every crack and he was tired of pretending otherwise. He was just tired of _lying_.

"We tried and it didn't work," Steve repeated, voice lowering a few decibels from broken temper. Natasha had risen from her chair, shoulders braced taut under the worn-out uniform, but her eyes glanced away when he swallowed. They were stripped raw off dishonesty and hope.   
"We won and everything is lost. What else do you call the truth?"

"We fight back, Steve," she was trained out of showing desperation but time had found a way to teach her the same again. Her fingers clenched and unfurled half-way into fists at her sides but she wouldn't step away, holding on to Steve's gaze. "It's what we always do. I know it's - rough now but we can - we need to keep trying."  
"Nat"  
"I can't leave," she laughed with no hint of humour and her nails scraped her hairline as she raked fingers through her hair. The blonde wasn’t her shade, not the colour of her mood or manner, and Steve wondered how long it would be before they all became unrecognizable.

“Nat, I’m –”

 

A holographic alert flashed between them and Steve caught Nat’s eyes, nodding at the interruption and she tapped the light signaling the message. The icon came to clarity and Steve noted that it was Rhodey’s, letting Nat get to it and focusing on getting a cloth to wipe the coffee that had spilt over on the counter during their conversation.

“Oh” he heard and blinked, eyes looking up at the muted wonder in Nat’s voice. One glance and it was clear why she sounded the way she did.

Now enlarged on the screen, a simple photograph floated between them, and Steve didn’t bother stopping himself from taking in the details. Rhodey’s suit was unbuttoned and the right lapel twisted a bit, the work of a hand dragging him in for a hug maybe. Bruce’s eyes were shifting towards his right, a smile half-way blooming during the shot. His object of attention was a vision in pale yellow, Pepper’s hair free over her shoulder with a twisted braid forming a tiara of sorts but her hands were occupied in those of the man resting his forehead on her shoulder. Two feet away from her husband, a hesitantly smiling Wong had two fingers awkwardly raised, like he was considering bunny ears but also calculating the merits of it being captured in the picture.

The groom had his face buried in Pepper’s shoulder, her hair creating a veil of sort that showed only slivers of the jaw. Maybe he was smiling. He definitely would be.

Steve tried to recollect that last time he had seen Tony smiling. Was it before half of their world had evaporated into thin air? Before they had thrown away friendship to the Siberian bite? Before an airport?

He remembered Thor once joking that if there would ever be a Midgardian wedding to rival an Asgardian one, it would be Tony Stark’s.

The sunlight falling over the woods behind them and the mud scuffed onto Bruce’s shoes made no indication that Thor had been right by the looks of it but –

It had finally happened. It wasn’t a joke anymore.

It had happened and neither Thor nor Steve had witnessed it. One unknown of contact and the other willfully not called.

God, he hoped Tony looked happy. _Was_ happy. Somebody among them, among the team he couldn’t hold on to, needed to.

“Wow,” Nat commented and Steve dragged his gaze to her from the photo, reading the wistfulness and hurt and tired hope warring over her face as she took the whole image in.

“Like I said,” Steve said quietly, wiping the coffee stain with a soft hand, “We need to move on.”

It took Nat two more days to realize that Steve really wouldn’t go with the plan and Steve was reading in his room, Jhumpa Lahiri telling him how Gogol hated his name and how it didn’t make sense with his identity. Steve could picture the Bengali boy in his kindergarten, innocently telling his teacher that he wished to be called by his nickname, only to later run from the name with his whole being. Nikhil, he would call himself, just like his parents had once decided but somewhere Steve suspected that he would still be Gogol. Names had a funny way of becoming a person, he’d say.

The days when he would answer to ‘Cap’ were looking farther after all.

He was reading the book he had put off for years now when Natasha knocked on his open door, leaning against the frame in her dark jeans and grey hoodie.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” she asked, no build-up or guesswork thrown to ease in. They didn’t really need it maybe, bruises scabbed enough to numb new sores.

Steve held the page with one finger, blocking the story in an uncertain present, just enough to look Natasha in the eye and roll the thought in his mind.

“I’ve got to finish some things,” he answered and there were half-truths thrown around everywhere but Natasha exhaled, nodded once and eyed his book with a quirk of her lips before turning away.

Everybody needed to leave at some point.


	3. Chapter 3

“Can we switch now?”

“Sam, put your head back inside!”

“Hey, Steve? Steve!”

“Put your head back inside or so help me –”

The wind played darts with his face and he heard the honk from the honey brown truck matching his pace. He could probably pull ahead again and ignore it for a few more minutes.

“Do you have airpods in?!”

A chuckle escaped his lips and he switched gears, the gloves gliding over the handles as he slowed down to come parallel enough. He nodded at the driver who rolled her eyes but tilted her head in agreement.

“We’re about 20 minutes from Detroit,” Steve leaned back on his seat and grinned sheepishly at the wry tone from the driver’s seat, “Why’d you have to be such a sucker, Rogers?”

“Hey now,” he protested without heat and raised a hand in surrender when Sam jumped out of his side, shutting the door even as he ran across the gravel, “I’m not so bad.”

“You are,” Sam confirmed with a wide grin as he held out his hand for the spare helmet, dark hair sticking to his forehead, “But it’s okay. Bernie gave me her chocolate five miles ago.”

“I can hear you and I’m rethinking dinner plans,” Bernie called out from the car, “One plate for Ms. Rosenthal only. Mr. Alexander dines free air.”

The teenager made a face but his grin didn’t drop as he jammed the helmet over his head, swinging his legs behind Steve and patting his shoulders insistently.

“Come on! I wanna break some records this time!”

“You do know that I’m driving,” Steve kicked his stand off with a show of a put upon sigh, “Also, we’re not racing anyone. That’s reckless talk and –”

“I’m literally from Carefree,” Sam snorted and whooped when they took off, Bernie’s car starting right after them, “And you stopped fooling me with that Captain America act a long time ago, old man!”

Steve rolled his eyes but it _was_ fun letting the road take them on again and he continued their journey.

It had been unexpected, bumping into an oddly familiar kid when Steve first reached Flint a couple of weeks ago. He hadn’t planned anything concretely but he knew that the world hadn’t stopped spinning entirely and there were still people who had made promises that he could fulfill. The committee hadn’t expected Captain America to fill in for Falcon for the volunteering but Steve had come as just himself, just a friend trying to do the right thing and not let his best friend’s word go empty.

There wasn’t much he could do for a lot of things but he could do this. He could protest and plan, coordinate what somebody else had started.

It was what he could do when he thought of Sam, he’d decided. He hadn’t planned on bumping into another Sam in the whole deal.

_“Is that a fu-uh, flip phone?!”_

_Steve frowned at his laces, tying his sneakers before looking up at the dark eyes staring down at his bag with visibly horrified amusement. He looked at the bag lying beside him, the innocuous dull black gadget sitting atop it along with his watch and compass._

_“Are you…lost?”_

_“Are you?” the boy eyed the phone with curious eyes and almost reached out before drawing his hand back, shifting his look to Steve, “You’re from 2019, right? You’re not someone who time-travelled here?”_

_“Is that your best explanation?” Steve eyed the young boy with amusement, cataloguing the red sneakers with gauntlet insignia, “Time travel?”_

_“Hey, we saw people disappear with no explanation. Weirder things have happened,” the boy shrugged and the casual tone hit more than the words could, “I’m Sam. Sam Alexander.”_

_“Yeah,” Steve took a second to let his breath catch before picking up the phone with a wry tilt of his lips, “This is a flip phone and I didn’t time travel.”_

_“You kinda did once though, right?” Sam pointedly stared at the bag till Steve took it off the seat, plopping down himself, “I mean, cryo isn’t the same but – missing seven decades and still being what, 28? That’s kinda like time travel, right?”_

_“No”_

_“I’m not a fan,” Sam shrugged but his grin was quick, “I just read about you in your exhibition. In DC.”_

_“Is that your angle?”a new voice came from the entrance and Steve looked over his shoulder to see a woman with a tablet in one hand while the other held a coffee mug, “I’m not a fan?”_

_“Aww, Ms.B” Sam made a face at the woman who simply raised an eyebrow that made the boy grumble under his breath. Steve took stock of the ID card hanging off her neck and stood up, turning to face her._

_“You must be Ms. Rosenthal,” he shot a glance at the kid before looking back at the woman they had been expecting at the council, “The lawyer?”_

_“Hi,” she was a good feet shorter but had two feet additional of confidence, stepping around, “I heard that Captain America had come down here. Interesting to see it not be a rumour.”_

_“Steve,” he corrected mildly, “I was hoping I could help.”_

_“I’m sorry about Sam,” she shot him a glance that didn’t speak sympathy of condolences but rather of a shared grief, the apology reflecting ash she must have seen of her own share. Her gaze shifted to their younger companion and fond exasperation filled her face. “And about this Sam too, I suppose. His practice sessions in the car went smoother than whatever happened here.”_

_“I get the same reaction about this,” Steve waved his phone and looked at the fast mortified looking teenager, “Though you **do** look familiar.”_

_Sam blinked and suppressed a grin before raising a finger to his lips, making a shushing motion. It clicked in Steve’s mind and he saw the boy smile at as the penny dropped._

_“Came there with mom,” he said as Steve recognized the boy from all those years ago, watching the smile fall from his face before he pulled a poker face, “I made it, she didn’t.”_

_“I’m sorry”_

_“A lot of that going around,” Sam clicked his tongue and shrugged a tense shoulder. Bernie eyed him with a knowing look before looking at Steve._

_“So,” she saluted with her cup, “hey, did you bring your shield?”_

_“Don’t see it but,” Sam laughed as he pointed at the flip phone, making Steve roll his eyes even as a chuckle slipped out, “I’m sure he could use that as a brick.”_

A fast couple of weeks later, Steve had no real plan of what to do next but he was accompanying Bernie and her tag-along to Detroit, where they planned to diverge. Bernie had offered the choice of joining them till East Lansing, where she had to go later, but had let it be when Steve had evaded it.

Sam hooted behind him and Steve let the thought slip, letting the rushing wind keep him in the present.

They reached their destination sooner than expected and Bernie looked completely unimpressed even as Sam crowed the victory as though he had driven himself. Steve pretended to miss the target of his high five and lightly pushed the boy’s forehead away from himself, messing up his hair well enough.

“You think it’ll be enough?” Steve asked as he shook hands with Bernie, eyes slipping to the car and back. They had left the city behind but Flint still lingered in his mind, just as every city he seemed to touch.

“Not every battle is won at first go, Rogers,” Bernie pointed out but sighed as she tucked her hand in the dark jacket’s pocket, “Sometimes it takes longer than it should and that’s not right, I know. But we do our part and then – keep going, I guess.”

“Doesn’t feel like I’ve done enough of that,” Steve admitted and she frowned, “There’s just so much we could do.”

“Should do, you mean. Right?” she asked and her voice was sharp, knowing, a lawyer’s deduction, but her eyes softened at Steve’s silence and she shrugged, “Look, I can tell you a lot about privilege and influence but something tells me you’re good at learning on your own. That’s good, that’s what everybody needs. We all gotta fight.”

Steve nodded and inhaled slowly, feeling the air line his lungs with an ever-present memory of battle-smoke.

“But we also need to come home sometimes, Cap,” she said and Steve swallowed at the melancholy in her tone that swiftly got swept under defiant understanding, “Something’s got to be a breaking point. You want to fight a battle, you need to catch a break after the last one.”

“Seems a little selfish,” Steve smiled awkwardly but Bernie didn’t return the smile and simply shook her head.

“Steve, hate to break it you but being a little selfish isn’t always wrong,” she pointed out and gestured towards his bike, “It might even help keep you sane after some points of time. It’s what is keeping me sane, I’ll tell you that.”

He let Sam take his cap as a parting gift and watched them leave, briefly wondering how more people they would bond with and band with in this new journey. With a few beats spent thinking about new friends, Steve turned to move on, climbing back onto his bike to see where the road led him.

It didn’t surprise him when he found himself walking through the corridors of a relatively empty DIA, eyes roving over the pieces of their recent series of exhibits. _Play Ball!_ Captured baseball from a time before him, moments from 1870 and later flowing in hushed tones. His gaze drank in broken pieces of history, cards given free with gum once upon a time now sitting decorated on pristine cases, mementos of people who had seen less applause than they got in guarded museums now. It shouldn’t have been the home of kinship but stories couldn’t be authors and Steve had seen enough exhibits of his own to find threads of connection to those who lay now stored in labels before him.

It was a quiet reprieve from worrying about his own tales and Steve read theirs today.

Detroit gave him a last touch of warmth in a cup of coffee at the DIA’s café and then Steve was off again, catching the wind.

By the time he had tasted corn in about six cities of four states, Steve was sure he was testing his tastebuds a little too much but he wasn’t sure where he would really stop. He rode on, intervals of sketches and meals in unnoticed diners, until he hit Arizona and met something wide enough to place his tangled mess of thoughts.

He worked in silence to set up his tent, the gear from a disinterested store unfurling from his bag. There weren’t many who had escaped from a half-bitten world into the chasm of his chosen abandon and Steve had only the sounds of his own feet to keep him company. When the sun showed hints of dimming, he set down to work on a bonfire. It felt like old routine, falling back on things he hadn’t done since his entry into the 21st century.

On a whim, Steve took a picture of the Canyon’s heights from his view and sent it to Nat. He didn’t check to see if there was a reply and pulled out a can of soup to heat over the fire, hearing it crackle as he waited. It wasn’t much of a meal but it was enough and Steve settled down, lying down on the unforgiving bed of rocks as he stared up at the unending sky. It was strange, to feel the distance separating them and knowing yourself to be as small as a speck to the universe, but Steve had seen it. The sight of a universe beyond Earth, speed doing nothing to blur the knowledge of entering an idea only vivid in dreams so far – Steve had experienced that on Benatar.

He hadn’t planned it but he pulled out the flip phone from his jacket and flicked it open, screen lighting up in an imitation of the dotted stars above him. He didn’t know what words would fit a conversation never meant to be completed, not really, but his fingers moved before he could pull back from the thought.

_The universe was bigger than my imagination. Much more purple._

He hit send and took a minute to search for the panic of long-practiced mistakes but the night was finally calm, and he had one more thought to send.

_I always wanted to touch the stars and finally did it. They still look just as beautiful from far away though._

The phone rested under his palm, over his chest, and Steve closed his eyes to the steady sight of undead stars looking down at him.

In the morning he sat blinking at a can of water heating over a new fire and pulled out both phones. Natasha had sent a question mark. The flip phone remained quiet and he packed it back into his jacket.

The water was boiling slower than the soot travelling up the sides of the vessel and Steve couldn’t bother. It was a rarity, to not care.

He stayed for as long as that lasted.


	4. Chapter 4

He was in Waverly, fresh bunch of Iowa Rose in hand and eyes downcast over the porch of an abandoned home, when he got the first proper message from Natasha.

_Where are you?_

Two months of a loose rope and Steve re-read the single sentence, remembering all the times in the years they were on the run that Nat would get tense about Wanda not checking in. On the particularly bad days, when they would come back from a botched up infiltration or there would be too many takeout cartons left half empty, he’d catch her texting. It took a lot to get a spy to break their paranoia but some things still managed to do it and it wasn’t until he had met up with Nat one noon in December, in town with Sharon on a mission, that Steve understood that it was Clint.

No matter whom she hesitated with, there was always certainty for Clint. No matter whom she lost, she always had Clint.

He exhaled and read the question again before looking up at the closed door. He had known, even without being in touch with Nat or Rhodey, he had known that Clint would not have come back here. Things didn’t just happen just because he wanted them to and he had always been just a little late in getting to people who were broken the worst way.

The flowers were placed at the door, four knotted bunches resting on the threshold, and Steve stepped back. He thought to turn around before decided one last thing and pulled up his phone, focusing the camera on the door. The crisp sound of the photo passed, freezing in clarity on his screen like the moment had passed and all that was left as evidence was this.

He sent the photo as a reply to Nat and shut it, jamming it back into his jeans before turning around. It’s the least he can give her right now. A piece of something she’s lost too.  

The phone chimed two hours later, as he was biting into his lunch at a diner that had more bite to its mustard than Steve had tasted before. He finished his food slowly, ignoring the message till he was done, and wiped his hands on tissues that stuck to his fingers. 

“Thanks,” he smiled at the server, pulling out his battered wallet and paid the bill with more tip than was probably expected but Steve wasn’t saving up for student loans or a roof over his head. The thought of going back to Brooklyn gnawed on his mind and the memory of staying at Sharon’s apartment hurt, but he still had some time to get there. Stepping out of the diner, he straightened his bomber and looked around for a bit before pulling his phone out. There was a message from an unknown number and one from Nat.

Nat’s message opened and it was a photo too. Steve stared at it for a second before he felt the first tendril of warmth crawl in, lips curling as he zoomed in.

The focus is on the background and he can see the side profile of a woman in the front, probably close to the photographer. There’s a conversation between the woman and someone who was out of the frame, red t-shirt twisted in the movement. But the embossed words in the back, clean and simple in white over metal grey, they draw attention of the viewer and Steve traces his eyes over them.

“Always an Avenger,” he read the caption, typed over a band of black at the bottom of the picture and Steve sighed, eyes burning even as his smile won, “Dammit, Natasha.”

He closed the message after making the image his wallpaper, a hint of hesitant hope, and opened the unknown number’s message. The words sped fast and Steve let out a tired chuckle by the end of it.

_Captain Rogers, this is May Parker. Pepper Potts verified that this is your number so I’m hoping this isn’t both of them getting things wrong. I’m coordinating the efforts of Reassembled from Queens and Ms. Romanoff told me to ask you a question before she left and I hope you’ll understand in some context. Which home do you choose?_

Steve looked up from the phone and stared at his bike standing a few feet ahead. There were always roads waiting to swallow him up, let him run. He could pick up the temptation, could move.

He sighed again and typed out a message to Ms. Parker, thanking her for the information and opened a new message to Natasha. The two images in the chatlog stared up at him like a challenge, past and the future, and Steve replied with a question.

It took a minute for the answer to come and Steve closed the phone before letting himself spend a moment in the silence of nowhere. One more moment of quiet and he moved forward, climbing back on his bike to start his way.

New York was no stranger to him and Steve let the familiar air wrap around him as he reached his destination after a journey that seemed longer than it really was. The _Reassembled_ headquarters was in DC, building up a wide effort to bridge the lost and the seekers, but Natasha had said that she’d be at the Compound for the week and Steve needed to bridge some things of his own before he did anything else.

The glass walls of the corridor still held no real warmth on the other side but he walked on and finally reached the living room.

“Did nobody tell you about muddied shoes and carpets?” he heard before turning around to see Nat come from the old lab, “You look like shit.”

“Did nobody tell you about hair dyes and mirrors?” he raised a brow, dropping his bag at the corner, “You look worse.”

Nat smiled slightly at that and shrugged, the blonde tips of her hair resting on her shoulder even as the red had begun to bleed through on top. The bags under her eyes were more pronounced and her nails were chipped in the thumbs. Her jeans had been traded for maroon sweats and the blank tank top had seen better days. She did look messier than he had last seen her but she also looked better.

More alive. Purposeful.

Steve didn’t know how long it would take for that to develop into full-blown desperation again but he had missed her, missed home strangely, and he smiled back.

“So,” she wiped her hands on the back pockets of her sweats and came forward, “you came to catch a break before leaving again or you need something specific?”

The words were casual but Steve had been her friend longer than he had realized and he could read the cautious hope, the test of re-evaluation. He knew he couldn’t stay the way she had, wear the name of either Avenger or Captain America. It wasn’t his mould right now and he couldn’t lie to the one person who had given him more honesty than he should have deserved.

He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wallet instead, offering a sheepish look.

“I was hoping you’d help me patch some things up,” he replied and saw her eye him for a moment before eyeing his wallet. She turned around without a word and walked out, leaving Steve standing alone. When she came back, Steve frowned a little at the box in her hand, catching it when she threw it lightly.

“Nat,” he started when he opened it to see the thread and needle, “I – uh – I think there might be something – you know what, thanks.”

She nodded, the dry look calming down into a small quirk of lips. She walked towards him and patted him on the arm, squeezing lightly, before stepping around him.

“Good luck!” she called out and Steve huffed on a smile, staring down at the box before sitting down at the nearest chair. He considered freshening up first, getting a shower and change of clothes. But the wallet was right there and he shifted his jaw, nodding to himself before picking up the tools.

Holding the frayed leather together, he worked the unnecessarily long needle, dark brown thread in, piercing sharp and out. A needle is all he had asked but apparently it meant a surgical weapon in Natasha’s book. In and out it went still, his fingers catching rhythm. One on one over another. It was oddly calming, bringing worn out edges together and making things whole again, even if they wouldn’t be the same as before. A patchwork job was still better than remaining split open.

Things didn’t get easier after that day, not really, but Steve wasn’t sure there was any point that would make their reality every _easy_. It did get purposeful though, steady steps of waking and listening. Steve moved back to Brooklyn, getting a better reaction from Nat this time, and volunteered with _Reassembled_ whenever he could. It was heart-wrenching at times, going through endless catalogues of children who had lost their homes, their families in the blink of an eye. There were names and numbers, shelters passed on with tags, a system that ran on people who sifted through the ashes to find life again.

He was poring through the database collected for the week, a good familiarity set into the work, when his phone beeped and he blinked.

“Oh wow,” he muttered as he looked at the time on his laptop and winced as the beeping continued, picking his phone up from beside him on the couch to turn the reminder off, “Alright, alright, I’m up.”

Stretching up from the couch, he blinked spots out of his eyes and walked towards the kitchen, phone still in hand. He’d spent the past six months trying to find interest in cooking as an attempt to really move on. If he could feed himself without killing his stomach or tastebuds, he could rate one step higher in a general functional rating.

The fridge had poor choice in ingredients but there were a couple of carrots and peas. A little more digging brought out more vegetables, enough to make some soup. He looked to find some bread that would go with it and got down to making dinner.

He had set the pot and was about to wash some leeks when his phone rang, Nat’s tune echoing in the room. Steve looked at his leeks and down at his phone before hitting the call button, switching to speaker mode and continuing his work.

“Hey, Nat,” he let the water run through his fingers and made a face at the less than completely fresh quality of his produce, “I’ll send you the week’s details in an hour. Just got to catch some dinner first.”

“Are you cooking? Steve clicked his tongue at the skepticism in her tone but nodded.

“At least it’s just me,” he rolled his eyes and considered a minute before moving back to the counter to get one more carrot. It wouldn’t hurt. “Are you at the facility?”

“No,” she answered immediately and Steve raised a brow at the tap as he set to cleaning the carrot, “Well, yes.”

“Thanks for the elaboration,” he quipped with a curious lilt to his tone, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I – I have company,” there was background noise of other people and Steve thought he heard someone familiar, “It’s – one minute.”

“Steve?”

“Pepper?” Steve glanced at the phone in surprise and shook his head before continuing, “Hi, sorry, didn’t mean to sound so surprised. How are you?”

“I’m good,” her voice sounded considerably warm, sounds of a pen clicking in the background, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How are you? I heard that you were working with May last month.”

“Yeah, she said she could use the help,” he focused on his task but couldn’t help but feel like he was a little wrong-footed.

“I’m glad, Steve,” she said it like she meant it, “Listen, I was hoping to sort some things out at the Brooklyn centre. Are you working tomorrow? I’d like to meet, if possible.”

“Sure?”

“Great,” Pepper’s tone had happiness and a calm that didn’t come often nowadays, “Tony’s got his day planned out with the baby and it’ll be nice to see another familiar face.”

“Of course,” the sink looked like it needed to be cleaned, didn’t it, “Pepper?”

“Yeah?”

“Which baby?” Steve asked, not knowing if he was actually having the conversation of if they were having two separate conversations. It felt like eons since he had heard from Tony or someone who met him regularly, his own foolishly sent messages hitting a blank void always.

“Our baby,” she answered and Steve wasn’t sure if he was washing the carrot or scrubbing its skin clean. The water ran over orange, washing down the drain uncaring what it carried away.

“Your baby,” Steve echoed and was this his world, was he in the same plane of existence as he had been on the couch, “Your – I’m sorry, I think I’m missing something.”

“Steve –”

“Did you have a baby yesterday?” Steve felt detached from the kitchen, the sound of his own voice hitting the water’s noise against the sink, “Sorry, that’s not – you have a child?”

“A girl,” Pepper replied, grounding and unfazed, like this wasn’t something that she had excluded as a reaction. Maybe Steve really was spiraling if people he hadn’t spoken to in months could anticipate it.

“Jesus”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m here,” he avoided the question because there was no answer to that, nothing that would keep the moment from exploding, “I’m here, sorry. I – God, I should be reacting better.”

“It’s okay,” Pepper laughed lightly and Steve breathed out, “I think you’re reacting better than Natasha. She’s made triple the amount of tea here.”

“I bet,” Steve heard the dazed tinge in his chuckle but he was still on call, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” there was the clatter of tea cups and saucers, “Are you still up to meeting me tomorrow?”

“Do you have something stronger to drop?”

“I’ll bring her pictures,” Pepper declared and they could do this, he could roll with the punches, “It was nice to chat, Steve.”

“See you tomorrow,” Steve replied and had a thought clearer than the mess already rolling in his head, “Pepper?”

“Yes?”

“What’s her name?”

“Morgan,” Pepper’s voice held a note of fondness, “Her name is Morgan. Have a good dinner, Steve. See you tomorrow.”

The call disconnected and an incessant tone of beeping took over but Steve stood at the sink for a while. The water draining through his fingers tied him to the present as he digested the information, pulling it apart in his mind.

Tony and Pepper had a child. They’d pulled away from the world, from – he didn’t finish the thought but skipped over. A year ago Tony had stood in a hushed room, ripping out his heart and placing it still warm into Steve’s hand. A year ago Steve had flown into space, he had witnessed the death of their last hope before losing more friends alive than dead.

One year and his life had gone from fugitive to forgotten, all tethers rebelling in ties.

He didn’t know when he moved from the kitchen to the living room but he was frantically looking for the flip phone by the time he realized he was doing it. His fingers hovered over the keypad, a new message opened, before Steve switched format.

“Jesus fuck how much do you hate me,” the audio recorded as he spoke into the phone, ears ringing in the silence, “How much did I make you hate me that you wouldn’t let me know _anything_ , Tony?!”

“Are you happy?” the third attempt had him curling both hands around the phone and shutting his eyes, visualizing Thor’s face, Clint’s shut door, “Is any one of us happy? I hope you are, I really do.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I thought we could have still done it? Won, despite having broken apart?” Steve paced in front of the sofa on his fifth attempt, “Maybe I was foolish, maybe you had seen the future, but I still thought it. That’s why I let Vision come along for that damned stone extraction. I led him to his fucking death, but would you believe me if I said I thought it would be okay in the end?”

“Why Morgan?” the phone rested lightly between his fingers as Steve sat at the kitchen table, recording for the ninth time, “There’s always a story behind every name of yours, right? Is this like Morgan La Fey? I wouldn’t be surprised; really, you do have a knight aesthetic going on.”

“Is there ever a good way to apologize to your ex-girlfriend when you don’t even know where she last was?” he ran a hand over his face and the twelfth attempt left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth, “All I know is that Sharon was among those who were – everyone’s using Snapped as a word, it drives me crazy but yes. I don’t think I can go to her apartment yet.”

“I think I’m drowning,” he stopped the fifteenth recording when his voice devolved into more cracks than sound.

“How the hell do any of us move on, Tony?”

He was standing over the sink again, finally closing the tap and watching the water escape down the drain when he recorded his twenty third message.

“It wasn’t worth it,” he exhaled and it felt calm, an admittance out in the open, “It wasn’t worth it, Tony.”

Steve went to bed with the pot unused and still on the unlit stove, an emptiness clashing with a hesitant fullness that came from unloading everything. The thirty messages remained in his drafts but the nightmares remained out of the night too.

Maybe that was just because he wouldn’t sleep tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

“Is there a reason you’re,” Pepper paused to find the right word before gesturing to all of him, “a giant wet noodle?”

Steve raised a brow and bit back the smile threatening to crack at her expression.

“Is there a reason you called me, Pepper?” he asked instead of replying and leaned across the table to pick up his charger, “I’m busy.”

“Rude,” she said lightly, taking another bite of her salad on the screen, the sound of the fireplace crackling, “You used to be nicer to me.”

“You used to call me at more reasonable hours,” he pointed out even as his lips quirked, eyes falling on the clock before he sighed, “I have to leave in five minutes and I still can’t find my jacket.”

“Did you do your laundry?” Pepper shrugged with an easy smile at Steve’s look, “Just wear a shirt. That’s not the problem, Steve. The problem is that you’re a –“

“Giant wet noodle?” Steve asked dryly and she nodded, pointing her fork at him, “Did Natasha set you up to this? Is this some intervention to a non-issue?”

“I will answer reasonable questions and excuse you the assumption that I cannot call you without being told to do so,” Pepper reminded him and Steve made a face but nodded.

“I -,” he waved a hand around vaguely before exhaling, “I’ve just had a really long week. And some Vantablack guy called today to invite me to a pretentious art event that –“

“Wait, Vantablack?” Pepper scowled into the camera, making a disgruntled noise when Steve nodded, “He’s an absolute shit.”

“How do you ever get away with the cursing rule?” Steve chuckled as he checked the time again, “I really need to leave, Pepper, is it fine if I call back later?”

“Now that I’ve discovered the reason for your mood, it’s fine,” she agreed and Steve rolled his eyes lightly, “Have a good session today and tell Natasha that Rhodey left her gift at our place. I’m sure it was unintentional.”

“Of course,” Steve said solemnly, noting the twinkle of mischief in Pepper’s eyes before he waved at the screen, “Take care.”

He watched the call end before putting his phone down and looked down at himself. It wasn’t that cold outside, not immediately, but he did like having a jacket with him when he went to his sessions. There was something to be said about layers and shields, but Steve had enough practice at taking hits. He stood up to go change, deciding on taking Pepper’s advice in the end.

The group met at a community hall that had been left unused for the past five years. It wasn’t far from his apartment, a ten minute walk that usually helped him get into a calmer mood. He remembered the times when he would reach the place twenty minutes earlier and work himself up to the point of brittle tension by the time everybody had gathered. It had been four years ago, the earliest period of this, and it stung less now but he could still remember it.

He shook his head of the thought and pulled out the flip phone, a familiarity to it that felt like the balance of a shield on his arm. There was never a response to it, a whole diary of obscure thoughts and dangerous truths sent in this one-way street, and Steve had long understood that Tony didn’t have the phone on him. Not the counterpart to this one, and that was fine. They had other means to contact now and Steve wasn’t really sending messages to a void to get a response. It was just a part of his life, a new reality that he didn’t question much.

Some people spoke to mirrors with an imagination of a future’s dream. Steve spoke to a figment of the past with ease that came a little too late.

“There’s this line in a John Cale song,” he spoke, the phone at his ear and a falling sun covering the sky in yet another goodbye, “It’s called Paris 1919 and the line goes _You’re a ghost la la la la la la la_ _la la, I’m in the church and I’ve come to claim you with my iron drum_. Last week Joe, the guy in my group who says he waited too long? Well, he said that line reminds him of his life of the past five years. It was a nice moment, he’s been in the group for a month now and this was his first hint of acceptance. That’s what I – I mean, I think that’s what it is. Everybody nodded and smiled sadly. There were a few tears too. But my eyes kept going to his hand that wouldn’t keep his phone down. We don’t have a rule about it, not really, but I couldn’t stop wanting to take it out of his hand and putting it down somewhere.”

There was a chalk graffiti of a diamond crumbling on the pavement and Steve walked around it, noting the shades of Earth’s colours. The word _Valued_ was signed at the bottom right, white against the dust.

“At one point I even wondered if he Googled the song just to get an in to the conversation,” Steve shook his head, “Was I always this judgemental? I don’t know if I want an answer to that. Anyway, it reminded me of the time someone once tried to talk to Wanda about _Hallelujah_ in a park and Sam recorded the whole thing on video. It took her five minutes of listening to the guy try to explain how it was a great American song before she got up, stared him down and tore him a new one about leaving people. When he persisted, she yelled ‘Leonard Cohen was a Canadian! And a Jewish one at that, so take your hat and shove it up your ass!’. I have to say, it was satisfying to watch him turn as red as his cap. Did you really not get any notification of the incident? We were still supposed to be in hiding and I’m sure the guy made a fuss about it somewhere. If you did hear about it and helped keep it quiet, thanks.”

The community hall was closer than his footsteps had intended it to be and Steve slowed down as he neared it.

“It was her birthday three days ago,” the words should have been empty, probably would have been a few years ago but Steve had more control now, “I think at some point I’m going to have to learn new birthdays, find new days to celebrate. But still – it was hers this week and I guess it’s not over in my head yet. I painted that scene from the park.”

He saved the message to his usual drafts and stood in front of the hall, staring up at it for a second. Pulling out his other phone, the one that still welcomed calls and messages; he took a shot of the entrance and hesitated for a beat before sending it to Tony.

They didn’t talk really, not on call or in visits, but somewhere during the third year after Thanos he had sent his first message on the number Pepper had passed along. It had been an inconsequential question, something about putting together an IKEA cabinet because he had finally opened the one he had left in Sharon’s apartment for storage a long time ago. She had insisted that he try one, though he suspected that it was mostly to laugh at his irrationally obsessive tendency to either buy only second hand furniture or buy off a catalogue of model homes. He hadn’t ever gotten to opening the package till he had finally gone to her apartment for the first time since the Snap and something about its complexity reminded him of Tony.

He hadn’t expected Tony to reply, ready to try and figure it out himself, but a delayed pause later his phone chimed with a video link and three words : _IKEA sucks, why._ He had sent a photo of his finished product three hours later and didn’t get a reply for two days. When he least expected it, he got a photo in return and Steve still had it saved in his phone along with the photos he got from Nat, Bruce when he had time, Rhodey from ridiculous mission moments.

Tony’s photo had been a shot of a work table, a plank of wood resting atop it with two hands holding it in place. There were four holes in already and Steve knew that Tony had plans for three. The door had hinges waiting for it closer to the camera. Tony was building and Steve had felt a semblance of balance return, an old memory reincarnated though in different form.

He stared at his phone now and saw a new message alert come, Tony’s name blinking. _Do your laundry_ , he read and barked out a laugh, remembering Pepper’s conversation.

“Let’s do this,” he muttered to himself, pocketing his phone again and walking in, ready to try one more support group session. He could worry about everything else later.

On Sunday he decided to drive down to the Compound, wanting to touch base and meet Nat. They both kept busy in different ways but the last time he had been down there, Rhodey had been present too and had pulled him aside to quietly talk about Clint. It wasn’t surprising to Steve that Nat wasn’t giving up on him, and it hurt somewhere hard whenever he read the reports of yet another work of _Ronin_. Clint had years of training, was underrated as a combatant by those who hadn’t fought him personally, and was sharper than most. The first time Steve had met him, he had been a puppet against friends, doing things he hadn’t wanted to do.

Now though, the story was different and Steve didn’t know which rationalization would make sense of it to the world. Now Clint wasn’t Hawkeye with a code, with a cool head and a warm heart for those he considered his own.

Now there was Ronin and massacres, grey vs dark, and a litany of losses – enough to break the man Steve had once known better.

To Nat though, he was still Clint, and somewhere deep in him Steve understood that, memories of Bucky buried in Winter Soldier’s eyes still fresh in his mind. Steve knew what he would have given to try. What he _had_ given. Rhodey had left him with a note to watch over Nat and his tone had implied that she needed it in a way she wouldn’t admit.

The ride was reassuring in a strange way. His neck felt cold and the wind stung his cheeks but the engine beneath him churned out steady power to eat up the miles, sending shocks of bumps when he hit potholes purposefully just because he could even as he noted to send a complaint about it later. It was an empty stretch of a quiet day and Steve climbed the bridge, looking over the Hudson as it remained a constant no matter how many times the world messed with itself. There was something about Nature that always showed self-assurance, a surety in its own existence even as it had just the moment, just the now to be the way it was. His eyes caught a dolphin flipping over a jump and Steve wouldn’t have lingered on such a sight before, too tied up in figuring out his place in the new world to let himself just take the world as it was  not new or old, but a changing constant. Now as he drove back to an old home, he heard the remnants of the song he had heard in Thor’s Spotify a long time ago.

_“_ Well all these times they come and go, and alone don’t seem so long,” Steve hummed as he crossed the bridge with a familiar ease, a slow smile creeping over, “Over ten years have gone by we can’t rewind, we’re still locked in time.”

When he finally reached the base, Steve parked his bike in his old spot and took the basement elevator. It was quiet when he reached the ground floor, doors opening to the corridor closest to the briefing room. He was walking up to it when he heard the sound and recognized Carol’s voice before Rocket’s voice echoed a reply.

“It’s an earthquake under the ocean, Nat,” Okoye said as Steve came closer, standing at the entrance, “We handle it by not handling it.”

Steve stuffed his hands in his pocket and observed Nat address the projections of the others before they blinked out, leaving only Rhodey. It was obvious what the hesitation was about but hearing him talk about the latest cartel carnage made Steve wince, the image clear in his head. He knew how Clint worked by now and – it really wouldn’t be pretty. He heard the crack in her voice as she asked Rhodey to try tracking him again and Steve took a deep breath, putting on a neutral expression as he saw the projection end before Nat let herself cry, pressing both palms to her eyes. He finally moved forward into the room and tried for a smile.

“I would offer to make you dinner,” he announced and Nat looked up, taking a sandwich from the plate on her table, “but you look miserable enough already.”

“Here to do your laundry?” she asked and Steve made a show of rolling his eyes, wondering when the joke would let up.

“Here to see a friend,” he replied, noting the mess around them, but Nat bit into her sandwich and put her feet up on the table, moving the plate so that it was in his reach.

“Well as you can see,” she smiled even as a tear slipped down her cheek bone, “your friend is fine.”

“You know, on my way here, I saw a dolphin over the bridge”

“In the Hudson,” Nat sounded skeptical but Steve nodded, “If this is your way of telling me that I should look on the bright side, I might – hit you with a peanut butter sandwich.”

Steve raised his hands in surrender and walked to take a seat opposite her, tossing his keys on the table.

“Sorry, force of habit,” he explained, remembering the last session with the group, “I’ve been telling people how we need to work towards a future and how we can move on. But it’s hard to forget a small fact.”

Nat had tangles in her hair, a smear of peanut butter on her upper lip and a lifetime of tiredness in her eyes but she smiled softly and Steve shrugged.

“Some people move on,” he confided, “but not us.”

She opened her mouth to answer when an alert of a message sounded and they both turned to see the screen open to a cam footage.

“Hello? Is anybody home? Remember me? It’s Scott Lang! Ant Man? We met a few years ago? I know you remember me, look can you open –“

Steve felt his blood run cold for a moment before it began beating with a forgotten adrenaline, muscles tightening as he stood up in a suspended moment of time.

“Is that an old message?”

“It’s the front gate,” Nat replied quietly but he could hear the horrified bloom of hope in her voice and –

Well, shit.

He heard her scramble to command the gates to be opened and watched the entrance of the room till a panicked, slightly confused, but very much alive Scott Lang walked through.

It was hard to get him to calm down at first but then he started talking about how he survived, his theory of time being different in the Quantum Realm, and Steve watched him throw points around without joining them. Fortunately for him, Steve had been on a team with similar thought processes before and it didn’t take long to click.

“You’re talking about a time machine,” he surmised and Scott tried to retract that name but then acquiesced. Steve glanced at Nat but she had a thoughtful look on her face, raising a brow at Steve before assuring Scott that she had heard weirder things.

“So who do we talk to about this?” Scott asked finally and Nat stared at Steve that made him want to sigh.

It had been five years. Five _years_. There might be nothing to this theory really and he might not know –

Even as he thought it, Steve knew that he was making excuses. Scott was here, living proof of something getting past Thanos’ plan, something that had worked without him calculating for it. And the idea of Tony not knowing what to do with this theory, or not having the power to make it come true was an abysmal one. If there was anybody who could do this, do it right and in the scale they needed, it would be Tony Stark.

And maybe five years was enough.

“We wanna do something futuristic?” he looked at Scott, “We talk to the futurist.”

Whether the futurist wanted to talk was something they would have to see when they got there.


	6. Chapter 6

Later he would remember the brown sludge sloshing around in his glass, the scent of baked potatoes lingering when his hand caught around the elbow of a Henley. On another day he would think about red butterflies on Morgan’s pajamas and the pale blue bunny that lay on the settee, recollect the three turns of a silver ring with every skipped conversation point in a tense family lunch. There would be flashes of a white paper-mache mansion sitting on a kitchen mantle and a purple eye mask stuffed in the apron hanging on the fridge’s side.

As he stepped out of Tony’s home though, those weren’t on his mind.

“It’s a beautiful home,” Steve said as Tony moved forward with him, Pepper talking to Nat behind them as Scott tried to downplay his restlessness while listening to Morgan describe her camp time. To anybody else it would be just another home in the woods, an ideal hearth of the withdrawn, but Steve could see it. The porch had an armchair that was vintage at first glance but it had the odd mix of comfortable seating with bizarre mosaic in muted green, the front of the house had panels with a minimum of five spots he could detect that could easily house security cameras that were AI controlled. And then there was the door that Steve had already seen in a long-sent picture, still there with the precision of an engineer rather than the eye of an artist.

Tony shot him a look from his side, a quick assessment of his profile, before looking ahead. He wasn’t prone to hand-wringing but he had tics of his own and Steve saw his fingers tap against his left knuckle, bittersweet fondness curling beneath his ribs.

“Yeah, I had some time on my hands,” Tony quipped, eyes flicking towards the car and then towards Steve, “It’s not exactly Barton’s farm but it’s like - an upgraded version of it.”

“Clint’s farm isn’t exactly the same either,” Steve reached the wooden railing and shot Tony a wan smile, “I had some time on my hands too.”

Tony nodded and his eyes ticked down for a second before he huffed shortly, a quicksilver flash of repressed understanding. They always did speak better in glances.

“It was good to see you, buddy,” Tony clapped him on his shoulder, a quick grip of warmth that carefully didn’t linger and Steve nodded with a soft quirk of his lips.

“You too, Tony,” he said and his eyes caught Pepper’s eyes over Tony’s shoulder, smile widening at her look, “Thanks for the lunch, Pepper.”

“Wasn’t my cooking, but you’re welcome,” she laughed and caught Morgan in one arm when the girl curled up to her, “I’m more in charge of the produce around here.”

“Organic farming at its finest?”

“There’s more to try,” Pepper ran a hand over her daughter’s head and Steve waved at her, turning back to Tony to see him share a quick look with Nat.

“I’ll see you later,” he said and Tony met his eyes for a second before offering a vague nod.

As they walked back to the car, Steve let Scott’s nervous quips wash over him and reminded Nat that Tony was right in his apprehensions. He imagined the stake, the magnitude of a personal gamble that deep, remembered Clint’s loss and knew that he couldn’t push Tony. He would have years ago, would have argued the merits of a risk this high, but that Tony Stark was, above all else, Iron Man.

This Tony Stark, five years of change later, was a father before everything that could be tagged to him.

 The world, Steve’s own little world of friends and family, had a terrible history of risking everything for him and the cost of it was always too high. He would pay it himself if that were enough but life never allowed that and after ages of promising together, he wanted to break the pattern. He wanted to do things the right way.

Finding Bruce was easy. Convincing him to try was easy too.

The three days it took them to come to a conceivable time machine didn’t reassure Steve that the _idea_ was going to be anything close to easy.

“You’re sure this will work?” Steve asked Nat in an undertone as they walked to the area where Bruce had set up the arrangement. This was like the serum all over again, an experiment that was walking the edges of horrific and heroic, the extreme of science with a few heaps of desperate madness.

“If you don’t want me to throw up on your shoes, don’t ask me questions that’ll provoke it,” Nat replied through her teeth, smiling at Bruce when he looked back from a distance, “Come on, good vibes only.”

“Hearing that from you is surreal,” Steve offered but nodded at Bruce as they got closer, trying to keep his smile in place as Scott waved in his suit, “We’re ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Scott shook out his arms and looked at Bruce, “This’ll work right?”

“There’s a fifty percent chance that nothing will go wrong,” Bruce said cheerfully and Steve had an intense urge to facepalm.

“What –“

“He’s kidding,” Nat said smoothly, smiling up at Bruce, “You can’t say things like that.”

“Sorry,” Bruce offered a thumbs-up and Scott looked at Steve with hesitant optimism, “Okay, Scott, you’re going to go back a week and take a walk for five seconds before we pull you back. It’s going to be fine.”

“You can do this, Scott,” Steve affirmed and Scott inhaled, shooting the same smile he had back at Leipzig.

“Yes I can, Captain Ameri-”

The machine worked before he could complete the sentence and Bruce counted to five, hitting the switch again at one.

“Is that Scott?” Steve heard Nat ask but his own mind was steadily growing horrified at the teenager who stood in the Ant-Man suit.

“Yes, it’s Scott!”

“What’s going on? Can you fix it?” Steve asked and watched Bruce try again, the light zapping from the van behind Scott before the suit reappeared.

“Is it okay? My back is killing me,” an incredibly older version of Scott cracked his back and Steve hovered around Bruce, backing off when he was asked to.

“Okay, okay, you’ve got the space,” Steve moved away and stared between Bruce and their test subject, “You can do this, Bruce.”

One more try and they were staring at a baby.

“It’s a baby,” Steve said out loud, hoping that he was dreaming, that this was some strange nightmare that would break.

“It’s Scott!” Bruce pointed at the infant.

“As a _baby_!” Steve could hear the panic in his own voice and heard Nat swear, “Bring him back!”

“He’ll grow!”

“Bruce, bring him back,” Nat chimed in and Steve threw his hands in the air at the madness.

“Alright, alright, Nat,” Bruce fiddled with the knobs frantically, “kill the power when I tell you.”

Steve clenched his hands on his hips and watched as Bruce tried one last time, Nat killing the power on command.

Scott stared back at them in his normal form and Steve heard Bruce declare time travel a success, shooting him a dry stare before leaving the room. He needed a minute.

The grounds of the facility were empty and Steve rested against the entrance’s pillar. His eyes fell to his shoes and Steve wanted to laugh at the memory of that morning, his nerves exhibiting in the extra effort he had put into polishing them. There was a close call during his shave and his breakfast had threatened to not settle.

This was supposed to be their second chance. Third maybe, if he considered the brief hope he’d harboured five years ago during that trip to The Garden. Of all the mistakes they had made, the missed calls, this was supposed to be a renewed chance. It had seemed like a joke in the beginning, like all dreams do to starved souls with burned fingers, but then it had been one day, two, and three of effort. There had been a voice in his mind, cracking through the surface.

What if. Why not.

Steve exhaled and his fingers longed for a disc of balance, a phantom of the time when things had been on more solid ground. He didn’t know about the title, about the uniform and the paint announcing a legend but the shield – it was a realization of a dream in some ways.

He eyed the expanse of the open grounds before him and considered going back inside, persuading his feet to move again, when he first heard it. Speed.

The black dot racing across the pathway was loud, blazing over gravel and a less travelled road, and Steve didn’t stop his frown from smoothing over. His eyes tracked the arriving car and he watched as it went past him a few feet, engine whirring to a stop before it reversed, retracing the steps back to where he was. Steve felt the beginning of a smile as the window rolled down before rolling his eyes at the teasingly sad face.

“Why the long face?” Tony asked and Steve shook his head as the door clicked open, “Let me guess, he turned into a baby.”

“Among other things, yeah,” Steve admitted, taking a quick look of Tony’s more put together appearance, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s an expected paradox. You pushed time through Lang instead of pushing Lang through time,” Tony explained in a rapid flow of words, “It’s dangerous. Somebody could have warned you.”

“You did,” Steve pointed out and wondered if Tony could hear the soft spot in his voice.

“Did I?” Tony blinked innocently, face breaking into a hint of a smile, “Doesn’t matter, I’m here now.”

Steve nodded and Tony raised his fist, a band of wires coiled around his fingers, an imitation of his repulsor watch.

“I fixed it,” Tony said with an excited desperation to his voice and Steve’s eyes widened even as his grin deepened, “A fully functioning time GPS device.

“Turns out,” Tony said with an affected casual tone trying to hide the momentous words falling from his lips, “resentment is corrosive and I hate it.”

Steve felt his throat tense, breath catch over his lungs and this was not the kind of hope he had woken up with today but God, it was more than he had come to expect over the years.

“Me too,” he said and it was a hundred shades of inadequate, an unending messages stream of unsaid in two words but Tony smiled, a wash of relief in his shoulders.

“I just want peace,” Steve saw Tony move towards the rear of the car and took a step forward, moving till he was nearer, closer to catch the words that still seemed like a dream, “I gotta tell you my priorities though, Steve. Get back what we lost? I hope so, absolutely.”

Steve knew what the stipulation would be and it was ironic how he could finally read Tony right after having read things wrong for years.

“But keep what I’ve found? I have to,” he continued and Steve nodded, tilting his head when Tony held out a hand, “And maybe try not dying, that would be good too.”

Steve considered Tony’s hand for a beat, just a beat of letting the last memory their hands had met, of a harsher past flow through his mind. One beat and he was slipping his hand into Tony’s, grasping it in a firm shake.

“Sounds like a deal,” he agreed and Tony grinned, eyes crinkling in an undecipherable emotion that Steve would have dared to call affection with anyone else. With himself, Steve wasn’t sure what it was, how a language would describe the puzzle that came in misplaced pieces between them. There was a ballpit of emotions that they always fell into, diving headfirst, bruised knees and oxblood tears. It was always one of them chasing the other, one of them escaping the other.

They held the handshake beyond what would be ignored and Tony had to pull away first but Steve curled his hand closed to hold the warmth for a second more. Years ago Tony had put his torn out heart in Steve’s hand and there was nothing left. Today it felt like trust, the same warmth but nothing similar.

Tony opened the boot of the car and Steve came around, curiosity winding into his skin, and saw the man pull out a cream blankie, a monkey’s form holding it on top, before Tony turned it around and –

Oh. Oh God.

“Tony,” Steve wanted to curl into himself, retreat, run till he wouldn’t have to face this because this was a test wasn’t it, was a rotten temptation, “I don’t know about this.”

“Why?” Tony edged forward, ridges of his outline softening, the words coming out quieter than the question warranted, “He made it for you.”

Steve swallowed and stared at the shine of the edges, the recently buffed out scars from paint.

“Besides,” Tony shot him a wry grin, “I have to get this out of the garage before Morgan takes it sledding.”

It was a poor facsimile of a joke, an attempt to make Steve look less like he was about to have a breakdown maybe and he would, he knew that he definitely could at this point.

Of all the things he had lost, the people he hadn’t known and had been friends with, the memories that weren’t his to know but were the only ones he could carry – of all of them, he had never truly let this one come to the surface. It didn’t matter, he had convinced himself, again and again over seven years. It couldn’t come back, he didn’t have it in him to ask for it and Tony had no necessity to volunteer. There was a world to adjust to, and then a world to save, and then a world to forget while a new one questioned its existence.

There hadn’t been time, at first, and then there hadn’t been reason. It’s what he told himself every time his hand reached for an unavailable piece of his existence, an extension of himself. He had relied on the shield, made it such an integral part of himself, that it had been an unmooring reality to not give it a proper farewell. To lose it in a snap decision.

Tony held on, patient in his silence as Steve reached out, an arm curling. His palm fit under the handle and the leather felt like a stitch to a part of him he hadn’t realized he had torn. The weight settled against his chest as he adjusted his hold and Tony looked away when Steve blinked down, choking down the turmoil threatening to spill over.

It felt like coming home and Tony let him have it, gave him the keys to it before stepping back.

“Thank you, Tony,” he said when he finally could find his voice and it still was not much higher than a whispered confession. He saw Tony’s jaw work, Adam’s apple move in a swift swallow, before he moved to shut the boot.

“Would you keep that quiet?” he said and his fingers skimmed just above the edge of the shield, “I didn’t bring gifts for the rest of the team.”

“We are,” Tony’s eyes bore into his own, an assessing gaze, “getting the rest of the team. Right?”

Steve exhaled and nodded. Now that they had hope in their hands, they had to pull themselves up again. Do it right.

“We’re working on that,” he promised and Tony considered him for a minute before nodding, something in Steve’s expression satisfying his doubt. There was a red suitcase and a navy duffel Tony had brought, and they walked into the facility together, both carrying a promise to fix what had been broken.

When the others saw them come in, Steve laughed as both Tony and Bruce began yelling at the same time, compliments and complaints firing off at a long-lost familiarity. Natasha had to pull them apart to get in and grab Tony in a quick hug that left the man in momentary shock before he returned the gesture.

An hour of half-spoken sentences and mass-ordered take-out later, Steve met Tony’s eyes over the rec room’s sofa and it was easy to offer a grin as he stuffed the last pizza slice.

Tony’s eye roll felt like the last piece fitting in.

They could do this. They could bring their world back. And then –

And then there was a future.


	7. Chapter 7

“Why?”

Steve didn’t look up from his report but caught the shoes standing in front of him. He did a quick calculation of the time and sighed as he realized that he really should be sleeping.

“Hello to you too, Shellhead,” Steve looked up at the peeved noise and raised a brow at the frown directed down at him. There was an angry mark of too tight goggles across Tony’s temple but his frown wasn’t really angry. In the past five days since Tony had come to the facility, it was easy to read his moods. There was always a dark echo to his tone when they discussed Thanos and Titan, a thrum of vibrating excitement that came with less hesitation with every discussion they had about Morgan, dry judgemental glares when Steve ended up hijacking his call with Pepper that was always Pepper’s fault but nobody really minded. There was an awkward tension between Clint and Tony for the first day that Natasha had dragged the weary archer back home, and Steve hadn’t known how to approach it. But it had broken the next day, Tony being softer with him as he seemed to accept Clint’s change better than most of them could.

It had probably also helped that Rhodey and Nebula had returned too, Rhodey effortlessly fitting into conversations with Clint as Nebula followed Tony around with a remembered protectiveness.

It had been the return of Thor on the second day that had really gotten the ball rolling though and in some way that had been the biggest irony. The others seemed to give Thor a wide berth, clearly skeptical of where to even begin handling the state he was in, and it was like their first meeting all over again when both Steve and Tony caught on in sync.

A decade ago it had been Bruce. Now it was Thor. But it was still them and it was still going to be okay.

“Of all the things you could have done, why this,” Tony demanded, shaking the phone held in his hand, “Was it the aesthetic? Please tell me it was the aesthetic.”

“You know, there are times when I don’t follow your signal,” Steve leaned back in his chair and huffed out a chuckle when Tony turned the chair across him and sat on it with the frown still in place, “Even when you’re speaking in sentences that make sense when taken as individual words. Is there a code I should learn?”

“Who told you you’re funny, Steve?” Tony turned the phone to show him the screen and Steve stilled for a second before burying his face in a hand, “You see, I can guess that you’re exhibiting embarrassment, which I can understand for Natasha’s hair, but why is it happening here? Was this an amorous choice gone wrong? Or right?”

“What will it take to make you stop?” Steve asked dryly as he dragged his face up from his hand, shooting the other man a deadpan look, “And what did you give Nat to make her show you this?”

“Both of them are pointless questions, really,” Tony informed him and Steve rolled his eyes, hand reaching to his left to pick up the smoothie that had been forcefully delivered to him an hour ago, “I’m going to forgive your ignorance of my smoothie for a whole hour –”

“It’s chalky”

“- and not chalk it up to your terrible choices,” Tony continued unperturbed before pointing a finger at the photo on his phone, “Which surprisingly doesn’t include this.”

“Then why does it need an explanation?” Steve sipped the dark green mix and was surprised when it didn’t taste bad, a hint of mint coming through the other greens, “Not bad.”

“You burn water,” Tony said with the force of the Sahara in his voice, before turning the phone back to himself and peering at it, “And of course this needs an explanation. Everyone except me saw you like this.”

“It’s a beard, Tony,” Steve reminded, gulping down the glass in a go before wiping his mouth, “We were on the run, personal grooming wasn’t high on anyone’s list of priorities.”

“Again, I’ll remind you of this,” Tony showed him the picture with amusement dancing in his eyes, “You also dyed your hair brown.”

“Disguise”

“Your excuses get flimsier and uninteresting with every passing moment,” Tony declared before a grin spread over his face, mirth colouring his voice, “Did you miss me? Was this a depression beard?”

“Yes, I went to all this length because I missed you,” Steve said in his most deadpan tone, hoping to keep the panic at bay because this was too close to home, nearer to the nail than he wanted anyone to hit, “Satisfied?”

“You look good as a brunet,” Tony declared with a critical eye looking between the photo and Steve, “That’s annoying. You’re encroaching into my territory.”

“Why you insist on spending your minimal break time mocking me, I’ll never understand,” Steve sighed and narrowed his eyes when Tony kicked his foot under the table, “We’re adults.”

Tony’s grin sharpened and this time the kick was much more precise.

Bruce’s sigh when he walked in fifteen minutes later to see them both playing foot grapple was worth it to watch Tony laugh as he caught Steve’s sheepish expression.

Tony and Rocket worked on the time portal with an odd collaboration of ideas between the planning of the time heist. It was a simple plan in theory but there were details that wouldn’t pan out until they knew the way to go about it.

“This really would be a lot easier if we just took out past Thanos,” Rhodey declared after the discussion of Morag, catching the sauce packet Clint threw from the other side of the table, “One shot and boom, we’re done.”

“Time travel doesn’t work that way,” Bruce repeated for the fifteenth time since he had first insisted it and Tony shrugged at the look Rhodey shot him, “Also, can we please not discuss strangling babies while eating?”

“It doesn’t _have_ to be a baby,” Natasha muttered from Rhodey’s left and Steve bit back a laugh at the low five they shared, Bruce shaking his head at all of them.

“Why are you stealing her fork? She’s eating,” Tony said to Clint’s right and Rocket rolled his eyes, still holding Nebula’s cutlery.

“It’s alright,” Nebula said quietly and Steve stopped himself from choking on his water when she calmly clenched her hand into a fist before opening to reveal the oddly forked extension emerging from her index, “I can still eat.”

“What – Rocket, give her back her cutlery, good God,” Tony looked caught between being horrified and just plain tired.

“I almost missed this, man,” Clint confided in Thor and took another bite of his rice with a slow grin, looking much better than he had before the successful test he had gone on, “Almost.”

The whole thing took nine days, eight days longer than anyone wanted but this was the fight of their lives and those never came easy. When Tony came to tell him that they were finally ready to go ahead, Steve felt the spark of hope fuelled into a larger flame and both men shared a fierce grin of pride before deciding to do it the next morning.

“You ready?” Tony asked when Steve opened his door in the morning, still too early for the mission. He looked fresh; the dark jacket zipped up over a full sleeved t-shirt and face devoid of sunglasses. He had trimmed his beard, Steve noted, and it somehow made him want to smile seeing the enthusiasm that had been wary to come.

“We still have two hours before starting?” Steve asked and Tony shrugged a shoulder, “Okay, let’s get some coffee.”

The others were early too, all of them trickling into the kitchen one after the other, and Steve spent a moment of quiet looking over the scene. There was no training, no routine, nothing that could really prepare them for this mission and yet this was one time he felt his mind clear of doubt. They were desperate, yes, and running on a fantastical idea but they were also at their realest points of lives. All that they had to lose, they had lost and all that they aspired to win, they had lived without for years now. It was a morbid balance of acceptance and denial, and it was strangely liberating to let that be their strength.

Steve didn’t know what he was going to say till they finally marched up to the centre of the portal’s base and he looked at them, his team. Natasha close to Clint, Thor with haunted eyes and a nervous energy in his hands, Rhodey in sync with Nebula – they were all here, all in this together.

And Tony. Right beside him, eyes sharp and suited up, filling in the gaps whenever Steve’s plans needed the check.

He let that sink in and spoke, letting the core of the past five years come through in his words. Protect each other. Survive. Don’t give up.

“Whatever it takes,” he promised and Tony’s eyes met his, a questioning brow raised before his lips quirked up in agreement.

When Bruce’s countdown reached one, Steve kept his eyes open and let the flash of light swallow him as they left together, once more into the breach.

The landing was shaky but Steve kept his breakfast down and looked around to catalogue the others. Scott, Bruce, Tony – they were fine. The noise of battle alerted him to his surroundings and Steve caught sight of the road ahead of them, littered with glass and debris, crushed metal that once resembled car parts. He took a second to catch his breath and then the Hulk made an appearance, ending the second immediately.

It was an advantage to have already lived through this moment and they had planned their infiltration around the disadvantages only Tony and Steve knew. Bruce left for Sullivan Street, impersonating an angrier Hulk, and Scott shrank down to ride on Tony’s shoulder as they made their way to the Tower.

“Did you ever think that there would come a day,” Tony’s voice came through the comm and Steve ducked out of a cop’s sight, “when you’d actually be glad that Loki had a slightly creepy obsession with you?”

“He was more obsessed with needling Thor,” Steve reminded as he sneaked past the first responders swarming the entrance, “Are you in?”

“Yeah,” Tony sounded amused for a second before continuing in a tone that highly suggested that he was going to say something completely unhelpful to the mission, “Mr. Rogers, I’d almost forgotten, that suit did nothing for your ass.”

_Is that why you insisted on redesigning it_ , Steve wanted to sass back but decided to spare Scott.

“Nobody asked you to look, Tony,” he said instead and bit back a laugh when Scott rushed to assure him about it being America’s ass.

Things went smoothly till the elevator opened, just as they had planned, and Steve had to keep his expression under control at the faces he recognized. There was some cosmic irony involved in this happening in an elevator again, but Steve couldn’t spend time on thinking about it and kept his body language calm as he entered.

“Rumlow,” he greeted and didn’t think about an explosion in mid-air, people dead because of a moment’s distraction, the beginning of an end.

“Cap,” he acknowledged, sharing a quick look with Sitwell that he wouldn’t have suspected in the past. There had been so many secrets that had bred right under their nose and Steve swallowed down the knowledge of every last one. This wasn’t about him. This wasn’t about –

Wait. It _was_ about him.

He had no guarantee of it playing out the way he wanted it too but it was too obvious, right there as an option and Steve took it.

“Hail Hydra,” he whispered in Sitwell’s ear and there was some part of him, some hardwired untouched idealism that curdled at the taste of the words on his tongue, but it was a small price to pay if they got through. It was a small price to pay if they got to save the real day.

A thrill of ridiculous excitement went through him when he had the Sceptre in his hands and Steve grinned to himself as he left the elevator without throwing a single punch.

Which was of course when his luck ended and he heard Tony on the comm, halfway through announcing that they had got the Tesseract before a familiar roar came through and Steve heard Tony’s groan.

“Guys? I’ve got the Sceptre and am on my way,” he tried when Scott began cursing after a pause, steps speeding up, “Whatever it is, meet me at the back alley.”

He was planning on any alternate strategy they could use when his steps skittered to a halt at the sight that greeted him.

“Oh come on,” he sighed as his own face stared back at him with a determined look. It was never a good day when you had to fight yourself and Steve was sure he’d end up leaving with a bigger mess than he would have time to fix.

Ten minutes and about twelve years of trauma unloaded to his unfortunate counterpart later, Steve finally landed in their rendezvous spot to see Tony and Scott sitting in a stolen car. As Scott began inching dangerously close to a complete breakdown, Steve was ready to pull the plug on the mission when Tony got out of the car with an unholy glint in his eye and Steve knew that he was about to be dragged into the craziest plan possible.

“Don’t ask me how I know,” Tony held him off even as Steve digested the idea, “But I know it. It’s there. I’m sure. Almost.”

Scott didn’t really understand the silent and half-spoken conversation they were having but he raised the concern of making an additional trip with their limited supply of Pym Particles.

“Do you trust me?” Tony asked, every word sharp around his tongue and Steve caught the panic, the desperate nerves mixing with fierce determination. This was Tony at his most basic form, the core of all the upgrades that happened with time. This was the man who had jumped after a god of thunder the first time Steve had met him. And this was the man he had chosen to save the world with.

“I do,” he agreed and raised his wrist to key in the date, matching it to Tony’s, before locking eyes with him and disappearing again. Whatever it took in the end, they would manage. Steve trusted that.

He wasn’t about to leave anyone behind this time.


	8. Chapter 8

It wasn’t a good sign when they landed in the parking lot of a government base and Steve dragged Tony down behind the nearest car when he heard movement.

“Do we have a plan?” he could count the beats under the other man’s wrist, clear to his touch, and crouched behind Tony as they looked over at the source of the footsteps from their hiding spot. Air force, blonde, commanding air around them, faded boots, badge hanging from the neck – thankfully they were walking away from the car.

“Apart from walk in, steal the cube and a couple of vials before getting the hell out of here?” Tony nudged him back with his shoulder and Steve leaned back, shifting further when his companion turned to face him, “Haven’t considered one yet. You?”

“We need some ID,” Steve looked down at himself and then at the shield still clutched in his hand, “And a change of clothes. Don’t think they’ll take a Captain America imposter story too well.”

“Times like this makes you wonder how easy it is to infiltrate a high security base,” Tony turned around and then turned back to stare at the license plate of the car, “Thankfully, we’re already in the end times. Come on, I think college is finally going to pay off.”

Steve followed Tony around to the front of the car and watched him peer into the driver’s seat before grinning wildly at Steve.

“Should I be worried about how you seem to know whose car this is?” Steve leaned against the door and the handle twisted easily with his force, moving back to let Tony crawl in to dig around in the dash.

“He was the head of Rhodey’s department,” Tony crawled in further, leaning over to the back seat and dragged out the suit bag with a cleaning label, “We didn’t really get along but I was a frequent visitor at his office.”

Steve caught the ID badge thrown at him and read the MIT credentials on it before looking up to see Tony come back out.

“He had this picture on his bookshelf of him and his wife, but it looked like the car they stood in front of was his true lover,” Tony eyed the suit before shrugging a shoulder, waving a hand towards the car, “I recognize the license plate.”

“Alright,” Steve looked ahead of them and calculated what he knew about the base, “You could go get the particles and I’ll distract the –”

“Wait, I’m not going inside alone,” Tony interrupted him and frowned, “We’re going in together.”

Steve shot him a mildly incredulous look and pointedly looked around them before meeting Tony’s eyes again.

“Tony, we’re at SHIELD. About 30 years since they last saw Captain America,” Steve continued steadily when Tony’s frown deepened, “And some of them _actually_ saw Captain America. I’m in full uniform with the shield. If we get caught, everything will be much worse than you’re expecting.”

“Right, all of that, agreed, but if you stay here,” Tony shifted the suit to the crook of his other arm and patted the hood of the car, “you’re toast too. Me, they won’t recognize. Also, we have two things to steal so if you’ve got a way to clone me right now or make me teleport to two places, I’m all ears. If not, we could stop trying to make you a human shield and get this done. Together.”

Steve stared at Tony, frustration warring with some jumbled string of emotions linking head and heart, not gaining an inch as Tony met his stubbornness with a familiar surety of his own. Finally he nodded and Tony’s face relaxed, eyes moving away to seek out the entrance of the place.

“Alright, now we just need to get you a disguise and find some place to stash the shield,” Steve saw Tony walk forward and looked in the direction of the way their earlier guest had gone.

“I think we might find something,” he said, a plan forming in his head and Tony fell into step as they raced against time.

Ten minutes later, they were walking down the grounds of the base and Steve felt his skin prickle with recognition, a premonition of oddity ringing clearly in his mind even as he kept his gait as calm as possible. He’d heard it enough from Natasha to remember and it was obvious from Tony’s own restless curiosity that he was relieved by his temporary anonymity.

“You weren’t really born here, right?” Steve noted the posters on the wall and heard the amusement in Tony’s voice.

“The idea of me was,” he replied and slowed down when Tony did too, “Anything?”

“Where would you hide a particularly dangerous experiment in an extremely confidential base?” Tony tried to covertly glance around but Steve’s eyes caught the entrance of the barracks and -

Of course.

It was easy finding out the location of Hank Pym’s lab and Steve chose that, knowing that Tony was more suited to figuring out where Howard would have kept the Tesseract. He shot Tony a look when the other man gestured for him to get into the elevator first, a flourish in his body language. If anything, it seemed like Tony was enjoying this whole roleplaying business.

The agent in the elevator didn’t seem to notice much of them at first but Steve could feel her gaze linger on him, just a beat at first and then again. Any minute now she would recognize him and they would be done for.

Tony seemed to have come to the same conclusion too and Steve looked away from her when he stepped in between them, pretending to be interested in the numbers counting their floors. It did the trick though and Steve breathed easy for a second.

Which, obviously, was the cue for Tony to almost give him a heart attack as he wished Steve good luck when getting off on his floor. Steve stumbled out a response and attempted to glare as the door closed but Tony simply winked at him before walking away.

It didn’t take a lot of finagling to get his way into the lab and Steve made a note to tell Nat about it when they got back. Just a little to boast about in an otherwise mess of their own making, he figured and was on his way back to the rendezvous point when it all went to shit. If he had been in a less dire situation, he would have been a little more careful. If he hadn’t been escaping the attention of SHIELD personnel, he would have noticed that he had entered the Director’s office to hide.

The photo was like a scratch in a roll of film, a scar that would halt the story in the same spot every time. You could watch the movie again and again, start from the first scene or the twelfth, but the film would hit a broken note where the scar would mark its place forever. Steve stared at himself, smaller in every way possible and bound within a gilded frame but there was a freedom to that guy that he couldn’t remember waking up to in a long time. His eyes weren’t shy of the sun or the camera’s flash, hair friend to the wind’s direction, and he held his own worth without doubt of failure hitting him yet. He looked alive. He looked worthy of being remembered.

The absence of his shield tore through his palm for a painful swallow and Steve was grasping for balance when the next hit came, the voice so familiar that he could reach out to touch it.

Peggy looked like the woman he had loved, the woman who would remember him without intervals of blankness.

The blinds were no wall between the past and the present, but all Steve could do was stare as Peggy read through her file and argued with her subordinate. There were no words escaping the clog in his chest, the lock in his throat effectively holding him back as she left.

 _I’m here_ , he felt the words beat under his tongue, loud between his teeth as he bit them back, _I came back. I came back home but the war isn’t over, Peggy._

 _Your niece saved me_ , the thoughts wouldn’t stop and he breathed in hard as they swept through him, _Sharon saved me and I think she loved me too, once. I never asked. I never let her say it either. She saved me though, and now she’s dead._

God, they were all _dead_. Nobody knew why, it didn’t make sense because Thanos being crazy could not just be it. One mad man could not have been the only reason an entire world was dead.

Steve had lived enough, two different lifetimes, to know that he was ignoring how it was always possible. They made monsters out of men to hide the demons that come with humanity, there were always ‘not all’ and ‘unnatural’ guarding judgements. So they looked to the skies, to their neighbours and the aliens, to anybody who wasn’t them, wasn’t their own faults in the line.

Thanos had won because of them. He had won because of their divisions and suspicions, their lies and lost ties.

And now Steve had a chance to fix that because somehow they still had that. A chance.

He put the photo were it belonged and walked out, hoping Tony had escaped too, his eyes sharp as he made his way to their agreed spot.

It took Tony three minutes later than calculated to get to the spot and Steve recognized his companion in an instant, eyes shifting back to Tony to gauge his body language. The silver briefcase was clutched tight in his hands and his shoulders were lowered, but Steve could see the way his eyes kept falling back to Howard between every word exchanged. They hadn’t discussed it, Howard or Maria or the last time both of them had been seen, and Steve felt his heart clench as he watched Tony hug the man who didn’t know their relation yet.

He tilted his chin in a question when Tony’s eyes met his and nodded when the man confirmed that he had the Tesseract. He could wait, he knew that it was his first impulse, but the reality of what they had to get back to made him keep track of the time as Tony got through one more unexpected goodbye to his father.

“You got the vials?” Tony asked when they finally were on their way back to the secluded parking, one quick stop to pick up the shield before they could leave. His voice was steady but Steve pretended to ignore the way Tony’s hands were flexing at his sides with an empty ache.

“Enough for the future,” Steve nodded and took stock of the surroundings when they slipped past the security gate into the lot, “I’m sure Bruce will understand. Right?”

“He will when I tell him that Hulk almost killed me in my own elevator,” Tony shot Steve a flash of a grin before turning back to the car they had jacked, “You know, I’m not so sure Hank Pym will. Did you know that he has some sort of a grudge against me? Or maybe my dad, more accurately, but the legacy continues apparently.”

“Scott told you that?” Steve took his SHIELD badge off and opened the door of the back seat, leaning in to get the shield.

“Yeah, in prison,” Tony looked down at his wrist and Steve shot him a look before copying the gesture, entering the time coordinates, “One last trip, ready?”

“See you in a minute,” Steve quipped with an amused glance before the flash of light swallowed them back out of the timeline.

The urge to swear was a constant with every departure and arrival through the Quantum Realm but Steve focused on the ground beneath his feet when they finally landed. His eyes met Tony’s immediately before glancing over to check on the others.

Bruce looked relieved, no injuries visible on him. Scott stared back and he looked a little rattled but his eyes calmed when he saw that Steve and Tony had made it back too, the Sceptre still safe in his hand. Rhodey put his visor up and laughed a little breathlessly.

“Did that work? Did that really just work?”

Nebula was staring at Bruce with a blank face, something like confusion flitting through her face before she looked down. Steve categorized that as fine for now and moved on. Rocket looked disgruntled but had the Aether trapped in his device, still in one piece. Thor had tear stains down his cheeks but his eyes held an inkling of hope in them now and – well, Mjölnir was definitely going to be helpful, yes.

Clint was –

Standing alone.

Beside him Bruce made a questioning noise, something in the distance was clattering to the floor, the entire world was moving and loud but Steve felt time stop as his eyes stuck to the empty spot beside Clint. He was standing alone. He shouldn’t have been standing there with a missing shadow on his left.

“She was the sacrifice,” Clint choked out and this was wrong, wasn’t it, this was a repeat of five years ago, “She was the goddamned price.”

And there was an entire world out there that had lost life, lost family like limb. Loss was supposed to be their history, their single largest chapter in the book. But it was supposed to be over. This was the next chapter. This was when they won.

_I’ll see you in a minute_

It figured that their last truth had been a lie. It figured that this was her turn to not come home.

The shield fell and Steve didn’t pick it back up.


	9. Chapter 9

There was a web of cracks on the mirror and a warm trickle down his knuckles when Steve came back to himself. Blue eyes stared back at a clenched jaw, deep cut cheekbones too pale, and his fingers came up in a trance to wipe at the mirror. There were tears on his reflection and now there was blood, fingerprints smudged down the fissures.

He could smell the lime of the freshener that Sam always chose, _always_ citrus, no matter who made the rounds to the store. It was a habit to always ask Sam and the answer was the same.

Any minute now, Vision would phase into his bedroom and ask if Steve needed either Wanda or him for the rest of the day. It was either the library or the deli that Steve had always made plans to go to. Wanda would inevitably steal something from Nat’s wardrobe and there would be an argument later about the technicalities of borrowing.

And Nat wouldn’t come back home anymore.

“Use the other basin,” he heard from behind him and it was Tony, Steve could see him in the reflection, standing at the entrance of the bathroom. Steve blinked at the mirror and then looked down at his hand. There was a beat of silence and then there was another hand over his, tanned and warm, fingers closing just above Steve’s wrist.

“Here,” Tony said and Steve moved, following him when he dragged them over to the next wash basin, feet obeying where his eyes wouldn’t. He raised his free hand to his own cheek and Tony caught it in the other hand, shaking his head when Steve looked at him. Maybe it was weird that Steve shook his head too, maybe the tears still flowing in haphazard lines down his face were supposed be accompanied by sound. But he couldn’t think about that yet and Tony didn’t mind, he didn’t mention either, so Steve was going to follow Tony till he could make sense again.

The water ran down the white marble for a minute before Tony’s fingers released his hand and nudged him ahead. It wasn’t a serious cut, his skin broken on the surface alone, but Steve let both his hands cup the water that washed through them. He let three rinses go through before ducking his head to splash water on his face. It wasn’t cold enough to be ice, was always moderated keeping that in mind, but something in Steve woke up with the hit of water against his eyes and he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to be back completely.

Tony stood silent beside him and Steve washed his face, wiping down the tears every time they welled.

When he stood back up straight, he turned to get a towel and was thankful that Tony didn’t do it for him. It wasn’t embarrassing, not between them after all the low points they had seen in and with each other, but it was reassuring to be able to do this by himself. He couldn’t lie on the ground for long enough. There was always a start to getting back up and if it was with a towel, then that was okay.

“Is Rhodey okay?” he asked once he could be sure that his voice wouldn’t fall apart on him, meeting Tony’s eyes in the mirror. He had last seen Rhodey when the man had walked out to clear his head, Rocket and Nebula following him. He wouldn’t look at Clint, not after the flicker of sympathy that had passed through the archer’s face when Rhodey had realized that his last words to Nat were done. That there wouldn’t be any next time, not anymore.

It was ironic how it had come down to them again, the first team that Natasha had stood beside, mourning her together. They had all been apart more than together but there was something about being an accident, a mistrusted bunch that had somehow worked, there was something about having been the first hope that couldn’t be broken even despite all the hopelessness they had wrought. They had started out together and it was some cosmic irony that they turned her last memory into a rallying cry together too.

Steve had said that, hadn’t he? That they wouldn’t let her decision go in vain?

And then he had come back to his room for a breakdown.

“He’s with Bruce and Clint in the lab,” Tony said, not really answering Steve’s question, “We finished the Gauntlet.”

“Already?” Steve blinked and Tony eyed him for a beat before looking at the entrance of the bathroom.

“It’s been a couple of hours,” his eyes cut back to Steve and Steve exhaled, slinging the towel around his neck, “Don’t worry, you didn’t miss anything exciting. Except for the few seconds when I almost fought Rocket for giving us a heart attack, but I think that’s pretty normal when you’re around him.”

Steve walked towards the room and Tony followed him, just a step behind. There was a jacket thrown on the chair at the end of the room and his shoes tucked near the bed but Steve’s eyes fell on the metal leaning against the bed.

“Yeah,” Tony moved forward and his shoulder brushed Steve’s, turning to give him a wry smile, “Maybe stop dropping it everywhere? I’m pretty sure Mr. Raccoon is a bit of a thief and this is a shiny, shiny thing that people would like to get their hands on.”

There was a softness to Tony’s tone that had been hesitant, half-wrapped in caution, when this whole mission had begun but now he allowed it to be heard. It was like the world was aligning on a partial axis, half of it still unbalanced, but Steve nodded. They all took what they got.

“We’re ready then?” he asked, moving towards the bed to pick up his suit and Tony gave way.

“Yeah,” he said, looking sure, an Avenger when Steve turned around, “We’re ready. Suit up.”

They gathered with a solemn sense of trepidation in the lab, and Steve’s eyes took in the new gauntlet they had created. It was based off Tony’s suit and it looked stronger, more purposeful than a bejeweled glove. It was the result of too many risks and all they had to do was snap.

Which couldn’t be done by anyone in general.

“Let me do it,” Thor begged, trying to reach it over both Steve and Tony, who had come up to stop him in sync, “Please. Let me do one good thing.”

“Thor, you can’t,” Tony insisted, gentle even as his hand was firm against Thor’s chest, “You won’t be able to take it.”

“I have lightning”

“I don’t think lightning is going to be enough,” Tony assured him and Steve pressed a hand against Thor’s back, understanding his frustration but agreeing with Tony on the issue.

Neither of them had any solid arguments when Bruce volunteered and reminded them that the Hulk was made to withstand gamma radiation. Tony put up his armour’s light shield and Steve raised his own shield, everybody at alert when Bruce slid his hand into the gauntlet.

“Get it off! Get it off of him!”

“No! Stay back!” Steve stopped Thor from interrupting as Bruce yelled, power radiating up his arm in flashes of light. For a moment, for one long moment it looked like it wouldn’t happen.

And then Bruce lay tired, one arm hurt from the energy of the Snap as Tony sprayed the healant over it. Somewhere in the periphery of his mind, Steve could hear Clint pick up a call and Scott call out to them but his attention was on Bruce and making sure that he survived.

Until the first missile dropped, and Steve raised the shield over himself and Thor in the last second before impact. It wasn’t enough though and the last visual Steve had before the roof caved in was of Tony’s visor covering his face.

“ – hey, wake up,” Steve jerked awake and the voice came clearer when his ears popped, “That’s it, come on, no time to lie around. That’s my man.”

There was dust clinging to his eyes and Steve blinked them out, curling his legs to try and get up. Tony was standing over him, blood on his forehead and dark dust over his cheeks but he was holding something that made Steve strive to get to his feet faster.

“You lose this again and I’m keeping it,” Tony told him as he held out the shield, waiting till Steve had a grip on it again before moving to let him stand, “Come on.”

“What was that?”

“You mess with time,” Tony looked over his shoulder, “And it messes back. You’ll see.”

“Where’s the gauntlet?” he asked as he got to his feet, walking beside Tony over the rubble.

“Somewhere underneath all that,” Tony eyed the mess that had once been the facility and Thor came up to them, dusty and bruised but still alive and looking angry.

Steve looked down at the center of the mess and there he was, the Titan who had started this all. But it wasn’t the Thanos they knew, Steve could tell, this one was different.

“How long has been sitting there?” he asked, eyeing the figure sitting with an eerie calm about him.

“A while,” Tony replied, flanking Steve on the right as Thor came up on the left, “But he’s just been sitting though.”

“That means he hasn’t got his hands on the gauntlet yet,” Steve surmised with a grim realization and beside him, Thor began rotating Mjölnir in one hand.

“Then let’s keep it that way,” the God of thunder declared, “Let us kill him properly this time.”

Steve walked between Tony and Thor, watching Thanos for any clues of his plan. He wasn’t known for subtlety so this attack had been his equivalent of knocking on the front door. But, if he was the distraction, who was the courier? Who was chasing the gauntlet?

“You couldn’t live with your failure.” Thanos said, and Steve hefted his shield tighter at the detached curiosity in his tone, “And where did that bring you? Back to me.”

There was a suspended moment in time when the three Avengers didn’t react, but Steve could see the other two get into position. Watching. Regrouping.

And then Steve let his shield fly, the beginning of the attack.

They had fought Thanos once, all three of them, but they had done it alone. Individuals against a murderer. A reactor blast hit Thanos’ face as the shield flew back to Steve and Mjölnir kept up the tempo. They were together now, a team of their own, and they would have to do whatever it took to keep Thanos from repeating history.

“Cap!” Clint’s voice came through the comm and Steve couldn’t pause, swinging his shield in constant blows, “I’ve got it, I have the gauntlet! What do you want me to do with it?”

“Keep it away,” Steve ordered, knowing that Tony had heard it too when the reactor beams diverted Thanos’ attention. It wasn’t working but they would keep trying, they had to.

He jumped in when Thanos’s frustration got him whaling on Tony, dragging the armour down by a leg. The shield wasn’t doing much damage but it got Thanos’ attention and Steve fell back on years of training, weaving between blows to find his spots, vibranium protecting him the best it could.

When Thanos’ blade came down on him, Steve raised the shield, already looking for a way to get the giant’s legs once he could push him off. He didn’t expect the cracking sound, the brunt of metal breaking and Steve watched his shield fall apart like torn paper. A huge hand closed around his throat and lifted, pulling him off the ground even as Steve scrambled for balance, air cutting off in his windpipe as his hand tried to cut Thanos.

He saw the blade rise, saw Thanos bare his teeth at him and saw the trajectory of the swing.

And then Tony was there, catching the sword with both hands, feet digging into the ground as he held it back. The blade was strong, made to cut through metal with ease and it was going to tear him apart, going to get through the armour to flesh and bone but Tony looked wild as he pulled.

Steve dropped to the ground hard when his throat was released and he could hear Thor come for Thanos with a snarl, could see Tony get pushed off with a purple hand.

 _Get up_ , he commanded his legs to work again, _Walk it off, get back up._

He wouldn’t let anyone die. No more.

 Thor had the blade pressed to his chest, stuck against a rock with Thanos crouching over him when Steve got to his feet and looked over at the weapon thrown aside. It hadn’t worked once, had seemed it would but it hadn’t. It needed proof, etched deep into the soul of the person who could wield it.

It had to work, Steve decided and dragged himself to it, a hand closing around the handle with all the surety he had in him. He didn’t care about proving himself to anyone, not anymore, not in a long time now but he wouldn’t let his friends die again. He wouldn’t let them battle without having their backs protected.

There was a spark of recognition, of power and war as he lifted and Mjölnir welcomed a warrior home. It was warm against his palm and Steve could feel the surge of awareness, knowing that he could call on Thor’s power now. It was all he needed to know now and he let it fly, aiming for Thanos.

Thanos was pushed off Thor and Mjölnir came flying back to Steve, fitting back in his hand as he stood at ready.

“I knew it!” Thor laughed with the first spark of true joy since he had come back, “I knew you were worthy!”

Steve raised the hammer to the sky, his intent fierce in his mind and called for lightning, feeling it answer in curls around his hand sparking up to meet the flash reaching down from above. With all his might, every ounce of him meaning the action in entirety, Steve brought the lightning down and threw Thanos off his feet.

It lasted a minute, just a moment of respite before the Titan was up with renewed anger. With Mjölnir swinging from one hand, Steve charged, alternating with Thor as they tried to bring him down and Tony was up too. It was getting stronger, getting closer when Thanos called for his troupes and an army fell from the sky for the second time since they had formed the Avengers.

They were getting outnumbered and overpowered but they kept fighting, trying to keep the fighting contained to where they could control it.

Thor fell. Tony got pushed down. Steve tried to bring Mjölnir down on Thanos and was ripped away from it, thrown away.

Thanos knew that he was winning and it showed when he eyed Steve with the blade shining in is hand.

Steve had been pushed up against the walls of every alley in Brooklyn. He had tasted the pain of knuckles and boots in a Hydra bunker with the Skull lording over him. The Chitauri had shot him in the gut, knocking him to his knees on a burning down New York road. His best friend had punched him down a Helicarrier, rage cold in metal arm. The hubris of good intentions had thrown him off a bridge when an Ultron bot chased him on a flying city. His lies had burnt him on a cold Siberian morning and a bloodied shield had slipped from his hand. A dead Titan had spared him even as his friends dissolved to dust around him.

He had gotten up then. He got up now.

He had nothing but himself and a broken shield with an army in front of him but Steve found the ground under his feet. His shield strap was loose and he pulled, gritting his teeth as it tightened on his arm.

Till there was even one of them standing, Thanos hadn’t won. Till there was one person against him, Earth hadn’t lost. Steve was the last man standing and he dragged his feet, walking to meet the army head-on.

“Hey, Cap”

Steve felt his heart stop. It couldn’t be. Could it?

“Cap, this is Sam, do you copy?” the voice continued in his comm and Steve slowed down, feet skittering to a halt, “On your left”

He turned around and Falcon flew over, a portal opened behind him with crackling golden edges. When Steve looked down, another person came through the portal and the rush of relief was heady.

It had burned him constantly, an ever-present knowledge of what they had cost an entire kingdom. T’Challa had protected them, helped them again and again and the truth of what it had cost his people couldn’t be ignored. Okoye hadn’t blamed them, hadn’t demanded anything from them when both the heirs of T’Chaka had been taken by the Snap. Queen Ramonda hadn’t spoken to any of them, letting Okoye handle any communication, but Steve was perversely grateful for it.

He still remembered the moment he had heard T’Challa call to open the Wakandan border shields to give them time. Shuri hadn’t made it past her lab.

Now as they both stood in front of Steve, Okoye at their side, he let the hope run through him and the echoes of a thousand warriors followed.

He turned around as a dozen more portals opened and heroes walked through, ready and suited. Avengers, Wakandans, Inhumans, aliens Carol had told them were called Skrulls – they marched out in hordes and Steve wasn’t the last man standing anymore.

He faced down Thanos and they fell into formation beside him, waiting for the command, friends and strangers roaring to fight back. He held his hand out and Mjölnir came back, one last piece to the armour and he heard Tony’s voice through the comm., a private link.

“Call it, Steve”

“Avengers!” Steve let his voice ring loud, clear as the gong before a war, “Assemble.”


	10. Chapter 10

They were winning.

By the skin of their teeth, taking more hits than they could prepare for, but they were holding their own and winning.

And they had hope.

“I got it!” Peter called out as Steve ducked another punch, knowing that the kid had taken the gauntlet from T’Challa, “Okay, this is bad – uh, a little help?!”

“Hey, Queens!” Steve threw the one holding him in a chokehold and raised his eyes to track where the Spider suit was, “Heads up!”

Throwing Mjölnir in Peter’s direction, Steve rushed to cover Clint’s six, one ear still open for the conversations falling through the comm. For an instant Peter yelled as he slipped from Mjölnir’s hold but Pepper was there, Pepper took over the rescue job with ease.

It was untrained, unplanned, determined teamwork.

They had to get the gauntlet to Scott’s van and Steve saw Rhodey clear a line of Thanos’ army, Rocket shoot through the guts of three aliens at once as Drax handled those at his back. Tony and Pepper were at each other’s back for an instant, protecting each other as they burned through the closest circle of fighters. Wanda was awash in red and Bucky covered her, gunning down stragglers even as M’Baku caved the skulls in to his right.

They were fighting for their lives and nobody was ready to give up.

Thanos’ army caught on to the plan of the gauntlet and Steve heard Peter react to the visual of being barricaded.

And then there was Carol, flying down to take the gauntlet from the kid. There was Mantis and Okoye and Hope, Gamora from Thanos’ time standing beside a Nebula she didn’t know. There was every female warrior gravitating together, looking down the sea of soldiers who would stop them from reaching the end.

The battle raged around them and Steve chopped away with his broken shield, hearing the first photon blast ranging somewhere behind him before the women were running together. Through the crowd, carving a path for Carol to get through without being stopped, they worked in tandem.

They were almost there, almost to the van when Thanos destroyed it with one blow, his blade cutting through it before Carol could get there.

Steve tried to get to him, tried to get out of the circle of fighters crowding him but they kept coming no matter how many he destroyed. He could see through the fighting that Thanos had got the gauntlet and Carol was holding his palm apart.

 _Not again_ , he threw the hammer through one line of soldiers and kept moving, _Not one more Snap, no._

Carol almost had the gauntlet before a whirl of purple light hit her square, blasting her off Thanos. Their strongest chance and she had been thrown away.

They had been goddamn winning.

Steve grunted and pulled himself forward, inch by inch as the horde bogged him down, anything to get to Thanos. To stop him from curling his fist.

But then there was Tony, rushing into Thanos, ramming into his side without the repulsor power. Thanos tried to brush him off but Tony pushed, pulled at his gauntlet, clung to it with the desperation that had always made him stronger than those who could beat him.

Thanos pushed Tony off and Steve could feel the panic claw at his throat when he smirked, a proclamation of inevitability on his lips, fingers meeting as the gauntlet readied for the snap and –

There was nothing. No burst of power.

Steve threw the body holding him down and moved, finally out of the crowd when he saw Thanos turn the gauntlet to find it empty of the stones. It felt like the world had slowed down, an astral projection of reality, when Steve turned to see Tony standing with his gauntlet gleaming.

He had the stones. He had pulled one last trick.

“And I,” Tony stared down Thanos, blood and fire dripping down around him, Earth’s best defender holding her safety in his hands, “I am Iron Man.”

One snap and the battlefield was blinded by light. One snap and the attacks stopped.

Steve looked around, the realization dawning on him with a slow trickle of warmth, watching Thanos’ army turn to dust everywhere. Thanos himself staggered, fumbling towards the seat they had first found him in, and everything about him screamed defeat.

He watched the Titan crumble, flesh and bone evaporating into the air, and Steve had five years of regret melt with it.

“Is it over?” he heard Thor ask and Steve felt his face break out in a smile, turning to see him land.

“Finally,” he could see the calm settle around them and they had done it, they had won. Tony had pulled through in the end, thank God for him.

Steve looked around to search for Tony, wanting to share this victory him and his eyes landed on Rhodey crouching over –

No. _No_.

Rhodey moved and Peter was stumbling towards him, past him to fall to his knees in front of the man who had been waiting for the kid for five years.

He could hear Peter’s voice and he was just a kid, he was just a damn kid and now he was watching something that would change him for life. Steve could hear him begging, trying to get Tony to react, but all he could think of was that there was too much grey. Tony was always in colour, wasn’t he, always reds and gold and whiskey brown. He was vivid, the light that soared beside a comet’s tail and still shone brighter. There was always a streak of crimson too bright on his canvas when Steve attempted to paint his team and it was always bold. In your face, demanding a vulnerability that you had locked away carefully, Tony was always meeting you head-on.

Steve saw his face, left side marred by blood streaks but the right was faded, charred into a grayscale version of someone he couldn’t place with Tony’s image. A version that had only existed in Steve’s nightmares and even then there was red pooling down Tony’s heart, always a shield down the middle.

Pepper pulled Peter off Tony quietly and Steve could feel the heat behind his eyes as she shakily called out to Friday. She had always been the most resilient of them, the one who hadn’t needed to fight with fists and weapons to be a hero, and now she held herself together as the man she loved looked on.

Tony smiled sadly at her and Steve could feel his heart begin to crack, remembering the photo he had once seen, a wedding image from years ago. Pepper had always been his shelter in the storm, the one to put him back together, and now she had a hand over his reactor. Still holding him.

Steve bit his lip and swallowed any sound that might have threatened to spill out as Tony’s head listed to the side, just enough to look their way, to look at the team. His eyes were unfocused but Steve wanted to hold on, to cling to the minute when they met his own.

 _Stay_ , he begged in his head but nothing came out, nothing he could say would matter, _We still have a life to live. Please stay._

“It’s alright, we’re all going to be okay,” Pepper promised Tony and Steve counted one breath, “You can rest now.”

Tony had survived certain death before, Steve had seen it himself. He had touched a blacked out reactor and thought the end of him before Tony got back up. He had always come back.

The reactor faded this time and Steve kept waiting. He waited when Pepper kissed Tony’s still cheek, waited as Peter failed at hiding his sobs, waited till Rhodey walked forward to place a hand on Pepper’s shoulder.

He waited till there was nothing but silence and no return.

He waited till Rhodey lifted Tony in his arms and the others gave way for the fallen to be carried home.

Steve felt Thor at his side but there was nothing spoken, no word shared as he followed Rhodey silently, a broken march of a Pyrrhic victory.

They had won but Steve couldn’t measure what they had lost.

They watched Rhodey fly back to the home in the woods, Pepper right beside him, and Thor shot Steve a look before following them.

“Let’s go,” Carol said and Steve turned to see her stare up at the sky before looking at him, an anguished look passing her eyes, “You should be there, come on.”

He nodded and she hovered up just enough for him to hold her hand before pulling him away, the air whipping against them as they flew. He had never flown to Tony’s house before, hadn’t been there more than the one time they had ended up having a tense lunch. They had driven Nat’s car that day, too engrossed in their adrenaline to enjoy the view of the drive.

Now there was darkness and Steve stared down, peering into the quiet as Carol flew silently. He usually flew with Sam, who was now back and Steve hadn’t checked in-, hadn’t told him that he was going. Everybody was back, too many lost faces regained, and none of them had registered for Steve in the moment.

Sam didn’t know about Natasha yet. They had spent two years in a tight-knit solidarity and he wouldn’t know what Nat had done for them.

Carol landed in the clearing before the house sooner than Steve had realized and his boots hit the ground with an unsteady balance. He could still see the little tent perched a few feet away,  the light of the porch bringing out its outline.

When they came up to the door, they found it open and Steve stopped two feet in. Carol shot him a glance before moving forward, walking towards the source of the noise inside. Steve let her go and took a minute, his head throbbing as he looked at the home. Rescue’s mask was thrown on the floor beside the couch, ripped off in a hurry. There was a fireplace in front of the couch, dark shelves above it to hold photographs.

There were a lot of them, photographs framed in simple borders placed on the mantle. It was like someone had needed proof of every memory, stored to revisit happiness whenever doubt threatened.

Tony had lived here for five years. He had given these walls his laughter, fears, wonder, and dreams. He had been safe, been somebody’s family, until they had come knocking on his door to offer him a chance. To ask for a chance at getting something back themselves.

Steve’s foot stepped on something as he walked and he looked down, lifting his shoe to see a silver band. He bent down to pick it up and recognized it to be a size smaller than Tony’s, a solitaire sitting elegantly with an engraved wing on either side. It had dirt from his boot and he wiped it, running a thumb over the band one last time before folding it in his palm.

The basement garage was colder than the rest of the house and Steve immediately heard Rhodey’s voice when he walked in.

“Do you want me to call Happy?”

“No, I -,” Pepper had her back to Steve and he could see her sitting beside the bed where they had placed Tony, “I’ll call him in a while. I need to talk to Morgan too – God.”

Thor was standing against the coffee machine, and his eyes tracked Steve first.

“He must be laid to rest,” Thor said and Pepper looked at him before turning around to see Steve.

“Steve”

“Is Happy okay?” Steve asked, remembering that the man had been dusted for years. Pepper looked tired, throat working, but nodded.

“He’s with Morgan at my parents’ place,” she had one hand resting on the table and Steve didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to see the final evidence but he moved further, “I dropped her off with them before Stephen brought us all to the battle.”

Steve nodded and came to stand at the table’s end, at Tony’s foot. There was a trickle of blood drying down his ear and Steve had the strangest urge to wipe it. He looked back at Pepper and saw her staring at Tony’s hand.

“What do you need?” the words were soft in the hard silence of the room but Pepper looked up, blinking through the tears finding their way down her face, “Pepper, what do you need right now?”

“Morgan,” the answer was prompt and Steve nodded, not speaking as she swallowed twice before continuing, “I need my daughter.”

“Then you should go there now,” he answered, holding her gaze as he felt Rhodey’s eyes on him, “She’s smart, she’ll guess something is wrong too.”

“There’s too much to do,” Pepper inhaled shakily and pushed hair out of her face, “I need to arrange for Tony’s – there’s clean-up out there and a whole new world.”

“We’ll call in SHIELD,” Steve looked at Rhodey who nodded, “We won’t leave Tony alone, but SHIELD will be easy to handle.”

“I can coordinate with Fury,” Carol chimed in and Steve turned to Pepper.

“Let us help,” he saw Pepper stare at him for a moment before looking over at Rhodey and finally she nodded.

Fury came in with Sam and Hope to take over the escort of Tony’s body to SHIELD’s facilities himself.

“T’Challa had to go back to Wakanda,” Sam told Steve as they left Rhodey with Fury, walking back to the house, “Hill is coordinating the clean-up with Ross.”

Steve shot Sam a wary look but the other man shrugged a tired shoulder.

“I don’t know, Fury said he’s good for this,” Sam looked at the living room when they entered the home, “It’s a nice house.”

“Tony built most of it himself”

“I figured,” Sam lingered at the kitchen and turned to eye Steve, a muted sadness in his eyes, “I heard about Nat.”

Steve hooked his thumbs through his belt loops and looked at the light over the kitchen table, a rustic bulb that held a mysterious charm to it.

“Yeah,” he exhaled and shot a pained smile at Sam before looking over his shoulder, “I should go see Pepper. You okay?”

“I’ll check-in with Wanda and Barnes for a while,” he nodded and Steve patted his shoulder before turning around to go find Pepper.

Hope had insisted on driving Pepper to her parents’ house and was getting the car around when Pepper turned to Steve, standing at the back entrance of the house.

“Where will you stay?” she asked, holding a small bag in one hand, “The Compound is ruined.”

“I’ll figure something out,” he smiled gently at her, “I’m sure we can find a place for a night and I do still have an apartment.”

“I know, but -,” Pepper held his gaze and found the right words in her head, “I don’t want you to be alone either.”

“I’m not,” Steve insisted but she didn’t look the least bit convinced, “Pepper, you don’t have to worry, I promise.”

“You can stay here”

“What?”

“Here,” Pepper nodded in the direction of the house and shook her head vaguely, “I don’t know when I’ll be coming back. Not – not for a few days maybe. And I’d feel better if it wasn’t empty either.”

“Pepper –”

“Steve, I’m not asking you to sleep in his bedroom,” Pepper took a breath and Steve waited as she continued with a tired tone, “I don’t know I said that –”

“Okay,” Steve agreed smoothly and nodded when she looked at him, “I think Thor is tired too, so we’ll both stay here for the night and then we’ll figure things out in the morning. Is that okay?”

Pepper nodded, looking oddly relieved and Steve was okay with doing anything that could help her.

“We need to have Natasha’s funeral too,” she said after a beat, rubbing her palms on her arms, “We’ll plan one for her too, she should have one.”

Steve didn’t answer but there were some moments that didn’t need an agreement and they stood there in silence till Hope came with the car.

“Take care,” Steve said when Pepper looked up at him through the window and she squeezed his hand once before nodding. Steve watched the car drive away and stayed there till his head settled, before turning back to the house.

Thor stayed with him that night after Sam left for the SHIELD facilities, promising to keep things under control till Steve would return. The next morning Thor had to leave for his own people, and Steve told him that he’d go to the SHIELD base himself.

He really did plan to go, he’d say later. He would have at some point.

It took another day for Bucky to drive up to the home and Steve was on the phone with Rhodey when he saw his friend.

“Yeah, okay,” Steve walked out to the porch talking on the phone and raised a brow at Bucky when he waved, “I’ll arrange for it, don’t worry. Yeah, I’ll call her in a while. Bye.”

“Nice place,” Bucky looked at the settee, “You planning on moving in here?”

“I thought you were meeting Shuri today?” Steve considered for a second before gesturing towards the settee and finding his seat on the arm chair, “Clint said he was going with you.”

“We leave in two hours,” Bucky shrugged, tensing a bit before sitting down on the settee, facing Steve with assessing eyes, “You don’t look so bad.”

“Thanks,” Steve shot him an amused look, “How’s everyone at the base? You’re doing okay?”

“You could come find out yourself,” Bucky said casually but didn’t make it sound accusing, instead looking at the door of the house, “Jesus, did Stark really build this whole place himself?”

“He liked building things,” Steve replied and Bucky nodded, silent for a minute before he regarded Steve again.

“So,” he leaned back and raised a brow at Steve, “You sleeping in his bed now?”

“I’m sleeping in the guest room,” Steve answered calmly but his tone was laced with tension, “Really, Buck?”

“You’re staying in a dead man’s house, Steve, what exactly do you think I should understand?” Bucky looked unbothered, hair tied up today and his Henley’s arms were folded to the elbow, “And stop acting like I’m judging you. I got nothing to judge anyone about.”

“It’s not like that”

“Okay,” Bucky agreed without pushing it further but Steve could read him better than anyone and he knew that his friend was simply letting him off the hook, “Banner said that you’ve volunteered to return the stones once they’re ready?”

“The day after the funeral,” Steve nodded.

“It has to be you?”

Steve nodded and Bucky accepted it with ease, like he had expected this already. Maybe in some way he had. There weren’t many left to know the details of what needed to be done.

“Did you think about staying?” Bucky asked after a pause, gesturing with a hand at the door, “When you were in the past, in the mission. Did you think about staying? Living again a different way?”

“Would you?” Steve asked, a little thrown by the question but Bucky shook his head.

“No,” he admitted, a wry smile on his face as he met Steve’s eyes, “I lived through it all already. I wasn’t exactly functioning well, or maybe not the way I would have some other time, but I still have seven decades of memories. Good, bad, it was still my life. You didn’t get that though, did you?”

“I found people in the present,” Steve shrugged, inhaling deep, “Realized it a bit late sometimes but they were family too.”

 _And now half of them were gone again_ , he didn’t say but Bucky shot him a knowing look. They talked about Bucky’s plans for the future and Steve was pleasantly surprised to hear that he was willing to go through a legal route to clear his name.

“Sam said a friend of his could help,” Bucky said, “Bernie Rosenthal.”

“I know her,” Steve grinned and Bucky raised a brow, “She’s good, Buck, I’m glad.”

When Bucky finally had to leave, he hugged Steve and offered him a tired smile.

“You take care of yourself too, pal,” he said as he climbed down the steps of the porch, “The world’s gotten good at spinning on its own. Figure out what you need when you catch a break.”

Steve watched Bucky leave and exhaled before pulling out his phone to call Pepper. They still had a funeral to plan and he wanted to make sure it went well.

They held a public funeral at Manhattan, and the crowds poured in, thronging the streets from the break of dawn. Rhodey delivered the eulogy for Tony and _Reassembled_ was renamed as the Natasha Romanoff Foundation by Pepper. It rained towards the end and Steve stood in the front row, letting his uniform soak under the downpour as the honours didn’t stop.

It wasn’t the end though and they arranged for a private gathering at the house in the woods a day later, where only those who knew both of them were called.  

Friday revealed that there was a video for the family and Steve was about to give them space when Pepper caught his eye, gesturing for him and Thor to come along.

It was startling to see Tony again, even in just a projection, and Steve curled his hands in his pockets as he stood behind Pepper staring as the video progressed. Morgan was huddled next to her mother and Steve followed Tony’s form as he crouched down in front of his daughter for one last goodbye. It was fitting that even Tony’s goodbye was a declaration of hope, of love, just as his entire life had been for those he had chosen to care about.

They floated his arc reactor on the lake and Steve stood beside the family Tony had left behind, watching his heart flow away from them.

After everything had died down, Steve caught Pepper in the garage, staring at the worktable.

“Hi” she called out without turning and Steve walked toward her, coming to stand beside her in silence.

“Happy said you’d be here,” he replied and eyed the _Rescue_ suit kept in its case, “I think Ross was looking to say goodbye before he left.”

“Well then I’m glad he didn’t find me,” Pepper quipped, quirking a slight smile at Steve’s huff, “Did he tell you about the last time we saw him?”

Steve frowned a little, shaking his head and Peppers smile softened.

“He came by about two weeks after Tony returned from space,” she made a face but shrugged, “I don’t know why he thought it was a good idea but I guess he was looking for someone to unload on and it was easy to put it on the person who wasn’t here. Anyway, he came down to meet Tony and for about ten minutes things were civil.”

“And then things spiraled?”

“And then Tony punched Ross in the face,” Pepper said, a laugh on her lips at Steve’s wide eyes, “Happy would have been proud, it was an excellent punch. One shot. I was a little worried about my carpet.”

“Why did –”

“Ross called for your head,” Pepper answered him before Steve could finish the question and the air felt punched out of his lungs but she shot him an understanding glance, “Yours and Natasha’s, really, but he was very insistent on yours.”

“I didn’t know,” Steve admitted and Pepper nodded.

“I know, he wouldn’t have told you and Ross calmed down over the years,” she said, letting a breath out slowly, “I still remember the look on Tony’s face when he heard the demand. Ross got off easy that day.”

Steve looked ahead at the holotable in front of them and let the thought settle in his head. His hand slipped into his suit pocket and he pulled out a ring, offering it to Pepper.

“I found this in the living room the first day,” he said, letting her pick it off his grasp slowly, “I should have given it sooner but somehow I never found the – it’s yours, right?”

“Yes, but Tony had it,” she answered, voice quiet before she looked up at Steve, “Thank you, Steve.”

“He would want it to come back to you,” Steve offered and she smiled, twisting the ring around her right hand’s finger.

“And you?” she asked, catching his eyes with a piercing look, “What will you keep of him?”

“We’re not the same”

“We don’t have to be,” Pepper said and Steve shook his head, “Steve, you stayed in this house just because I said that I didn’t want it to be empty. You put more work into coordinating the funeral than most of us. Are you really telling me that you’re unaffected?”

“It’s not the same, Pepper,” Steve tried but she was calm in her understanding.

“Just because you can’t explain it doesn’t mean that you didn’t have a relationship with him,” she pointed out, “It doesn’t mean that it’s unacceptable.”

Steve turned but Pepper placed a hand on his arm, stopping him in place.

"He was my best friend," she caught Steve's elbow, fingers gentle over the suit and her eyes had sorrow but nothing could mask the warmth she felt even as she recalled their favourite man, "He will always be the love of my life. I love the life we created and every memory I have of him."

  
Steve tried smiling but it felt like his face would crack, skin bleeding out anguish over the ease with which this woman, his friend, was wearing a new grief like a long expected friend.

  
"I have so many memories of that wonderful man, Steve," she continued and neither of them cared about the hitch in her words. This was their humanity stripped open. This was life clawed out of a grave's grasp. "And so many parts of those memories are yours too."

  
Steve shook his head but she mirrored it, more insistent and aware.

  
"He built a life with me," she repeated, "and he built one with all of you too. _Because_ of you too."

  
"That wasn't all good," Steve pointed out with a wet chuckle and she raised one hand to squeeze his shoulder with a feeble grin of her own.

  
"He didn't forget you despite that," she laughed, and they could do this. They could watch their hidden words catch humour. "He carried that phone almost as long as he carried my damn ring, didn't he?"

  
"Pepper"

  
"He was mine," she spoke over him, quiet truth in a heavy echo of the past, "He never made me feel otherwise. But you were his too. I never saw that proved otherwise either. And I'm never going to stop being glad that he had that. That he had more love meant for him than he thought he did. It's what he deserves."

  
Steve could only nod and accept the hug she pulled him into, two victors sharing a loss' ache together. Tomorrow she would have Morgan and Rhodey, a whole world still standing strong with memory of five years that they had lived. Tomorrow Steve would travel the stars to return a stolen destiny alone.

  
Today they had saved a world at too high a price and his arms were thankful to share that grief with a friend.


	11. Chapter 11

He had the choice of order for the stones and that was the best thing Bruce could have done for him, Steve decided as he first landed in Morag. The case was solid in his hand, locked to open only under his print, but there was something unsettling under his confidence. 

There was no explaining it other than a comparison to carrying ghosts with him and Steve didn’t understand the familiarity to it. His nape prickled with awareness as he hefted the case in one hand and Mjölnir in the other. The sooner he got this done, the better. 

Morag was the easiest choice, Steve’s acquaintance with Quill wasn’t a reality until much later than 2014 and he didn’t have too much to risk. Also, some part of Steve felt a pang of sympathy for the man who wouldn’t meet Gamora in this time now that she was somewhere in 2023, unwilling to go back. Returning the Power Stone wasn’t a consolation, not by any means, but it was the only thing he could do and Steve had the additional advantage of Quill’s own recollection of the event. 

He placed the stone in its place before Starlord could come to steal it and left, the odd awareness still burning under his skin. 

Odin’s palace was more vivid than his imagination had been and Steve tightened his grip on Mjölnir as he walked through the opulent halls, keeping an eye out for the Thor of this time. It was a maze of rooms, guards walking past the corridors in intervals, and Steve worked based on the instructions from Rocket. Aether wasn’t a stone, as Thor took care to insist every time they discussed it, and Steve had the essence locked in the device Rocket had pressed into his hand before he had left with the Guardians. 

When he found Jane’s room, Steve unlocked the case and felt it again, the trickle of strange sensation that called out. It was like a phantom shadow watching him, an intensity too close to be ignored, but there was nobody around them and Steve couldn’t make sense of it. 

_ Is this what Nat felt? A constant paranoia? _

Steve pulled himself together and eyed the sleeping Jane on the bed, spared a second to feel guilty of inflicting her with it again, before quickly unlocking the device. The red spread out from the glass of the device back into its earlier host and Steve silently put the device back in the case. He was out of the room within a minute and turned around the corner to come to a skittering halt. 

“Hello,” the lady looked faintly amused as she stood opposite Steve, sharp intelligence in her eyes as she regarded him for a second before tilting her head, “You’re not Loki, are you?”

Her robes were fine, regal without the effort to impress, and her hands were folded in front of her with a calm confidence of someone who didn’t have fear of the unknown. 

_ Frigga _ , Steve’s mind supplied and he saw her lips quirk up in a smile. 

“I’d think not,” she nodded as an answer to her own question and glanced at the hammer in his hand with a curious look, “He wouldn’t be carrying this, though I suspect that he thinks he should. I’m not sure Mjölnir agrees with him. Did Thor give this to you, Steve Rogers?”

“You know me?” 

“My son speaks of all his new warrior friends,” Frigga regarded Steve with a calculating look before her eyes widened a little, an understanding dawning, “But you aren’t the man he knows. Are you?”

“I am Steve Rogers, ma’am,” Steve replied, not knowing what he would be risking by giving anything away but she shook her head lightly. 

“I’m sure you are, but not the one Thor is friends with now. Isn’t it?” she asked and gestured to his face, “You bear the look of someone who has lived beyond time. Did you travel here alone?”

Whatever she saw on Steve’s face, Frigga laughed softly and patted his arm gently. 

“I was raised by witches, my dear,” she looked over his shoulder before looking at him, “Don’t worry, I won’t get you in trouble. You don’t need to fear me. But – would you like to rest a while before you return? You look troubled.”

“No ma’am, I –,” Steve felt the sensation press into him again and shook his head, “It’s probably nothing.”

Frigga looked down at his case and then looked back up at Steve, considering something for a second before she gestured him to follow and walked away. Steve knew that he should leave, he wasn’t supposed to linger, but he followed the queen. They walked through a deserted corridor and didn’t stop till they reached her quarters. 

“There’s magic in that box of yours, isn’t there?” she asked when they finally sat down and Steve straightened in his seat. 

“Do you know what it is?” he asked, wondering if she could feel it too but then swallowed the disappointment when she shook her head. 

“I can sense the presence of an energy,” she explained, leaning back and eyeing the case, “but I cannot hear what it says.”

“It says?” Steve repeated with the beginning of a frown, “It doesn’t  _ say _ anything. It’s just a feeling.”

“And that ‘feeling’ seems to call to you?”

“I feel like I’m being watched,” he looked down at the case, “Like someone’s following me.”

Frigga nodded like it made sense, her eyes holding a faraway look in them. 

“There’s always a language to magic,” she said, glancing away from Steve to look out her window before looking back at him, “It is different for every person who uses it or those who are bound to it.”

“You think I’m bound to the – to this?” Steve gestured to the case with his chin and felt an answering rush of awareness again, swallowing at the pressure of it, “I haven’t used it.”

“I didn’t say that you are the one bound,” she said and Steve frowned but she took a breath before meeting his eyes, “I cannot dispel the presence since it is visible only to you. But I can try to make you calmer to it.”

“Would that help?”

“That is for you to decide, Steven,” she stood from her seat and walked over to him, “No boon is good on its own. It is always up to the one given to use it for what purpose they seek. May I?”

Steve considered it for a minute, the swirling tension in him throbbing against his senses, before nodding and tried not to jerk back when Frigga placed her fingers on his temple and closed her eyes. 

There was no rush of power, no push of intrusion and Steve watched Frigga’s face tense for a second before she calmed, opening her eyes and taking a step back. 

“Now you will have more control over yourself,” she assured and Steve felt grateful, “Come now, I have kept you for too long. I wish you well on the rest of your journey, and hope you find it treat you kind.”

Steve left Asgard with Mjölnir placed under Frigga’s care and took a steadying breath before keying in the coordinates for 2012. 

The elevator conversation never got easier but it was still simpler than finding the Ancient One at the Sanctum. She had her shields up, ready to attack when she caught sight of him and Steve raised his hands in a show of peace as he walked. 

“You have the Time stone,” she guessed as he came closer and Steve blinked before nodding. 

“That’s one conversation less than I expected,” he said as he opened the case and pulled out the green gem, “How did you know?”

“I am the keeper of the stone and the only way it could go missing is if I gave it,” she extended her hand and the stone floated away from Steve’s fingers towards her, “I presume it was to you?”

“To a friend,” Steve shut the case and looked over the roof before back at her, “Thank you. You helped save our world.”

“And you changed my reality, I’d guess,” she placed the stone back in her medallion before lowering her hands, eyeing him curiously, “Tell me, Captain Rogers, is the war truly won?”

Steve pressed the suit activation on his wrist and shot her a wry smile. 

“Honestly? I don’t know if it ever is,” he answered and nodded at her, “I’ll take your leave now, ma’am. Still have a mission to complete.”

“I believe you do,” she replied and bid him farewell even as she turned to cast a golden shield to block a stray pile of debris falling, “Good luck, Captain. You have a whole new world to see.”

As he disappeared, he thought he heard her to give her best to his partner, but brushed it aside as the Quantum Realm sucked him back in its tumble. 

He had planned about this visit for days, running every possibility through his mind as he had considered it. What he could see, how he would react, what he would try. 

The instant his feet touched the soil of Vormir, everything blanked out. He had landed at the foot of the mountain and he looked up, seeing the pinnacle framed against the dark sky. His throat was clogging up but he took a breath before starting the hike upwards. 

Steve almost wished there were obstacles in the path, anything to give him a spike of adrenaline, but the entire place was quiet except for some critters and reptiles that showed no interested in him. Natasha hated hiking, he remembered from the times she would absolutely refused to indulge Sam in his hiking trip plans. 

_ “I don’t like mountains,” she repeated, frowning down at her puzzle board.  _

_ “I thought spiders were supposed to like climbing things,” Sam was still sprawled all over Rhodey’s couch and made a disapproving sound when the other man refused to pass the salsa bowl, “Seriously, it’s just a hike. You might actually enjoy it, fresh air and everything.” _

_ “I’ll climb a mountain willingly,” Natasha placed another piece of her picture, looking up to shoot Sam a saccharine smile when he raised a brow, “the day I die, Sam. Get your bowl off my board now.” _

Steve brushed a skittering lizard off with his feet and climbed on, clutching the case tighter in his grip as he finally reached the top. It was empty and the view of the horizon was imposing from his vantage point. 

_ It looks so cold _ , he thought absently and wondered if Natasha had felt it too when she had taken the jump. 

“Welcome,” a voice called out and Steve recognized it, knew it better than most, “Steven. Son of Sarah.”

Steve turned around and Johann Schmidt emerged from the shadows of an alcove, his robes tattered at the edges. He stared at Steve with a strangely pleasant look in his eyes.

“Do not look so surprised,” he gestured around him as talked to Steve like they were civil acquaintances, “It has been decades since I have seen a familiar face here. Even if it is yours, I am intrigued to see one now.”

“This is where the Tesseract took you,” Steve observed as he noted the other man’s eerie look of calm, “You don’t seem to be opposed to being away from your work. This beats Hydra, huh?”

“You presume that I have a choice,” Skull corrected him but he didn’t look ruffled, eyes taking in the case in Steve’s hand, “Ah. You aren’t here to seek the stone, then. I  _ did _ wonder your purpose for being here. Especially since your friends were here before.”

“I’m here to return it,” he declared and Skull shot him a piercing look, “Clint said you were the guide?”

Skull stared at him in silence before turning around and leading the way to the cliff where those who sought the stone either met their end or left with something heavier than they had come with. 

“Can you speak to someone if you return this?” Steve asked when he stood at the edge of the cliff, his hand around the yellow gem, swallowing before glancing back at Skull, “Has anybody tried it before?”

“Once,” Skull nodded, looking at the dark moon before shooting Steve a grave look, “They did not leave as whole as they had come.”

“But they could still do it?” Steve insisted because that was what mattered. 

“You will have to find out for yourself,” Skull gestured at the chasm, “The Stone decides more than we can, Rogers.”

Steve turned around and took a second to eye the stone before he held it out in his open palm. He didn’t know what would entail returning this but he was certain that it would find its way back to where it belonged when he let go. 

“Natasha,” he whispered as he let the stone fall, keeping his eyes open as he tracked its descent before it disappeared in a blinding yellow burst of light and Steve closed his eyes. 

When he opened his eyes, he was still in the same spot, looking over at the horizon that now had a soft yellow ring around the darkened moon. 

“It didn’t work,” he said out loud and turned around to see Skull staring at the moon, “Why didn’t it work?”

“Like I said,” Skull looked at Steve with an inscrutable expression for a minute before turning away from him, “The Stone decided more than we can. Your presence isn’t required here any longer. You may leave now, Captain Rogers.”

Steve tried following him but Skull floated away till he couldn’t track where he had disappeared. There was nothing but Steve, his destroyed hope, and one last stone in hand. 

He took one last look at the edge of the cliff before exhaling, bringing up his wrist to key in the last coordinates. The suit wrapped around him and Steve was out of Vormir, hurtling back in time to the destination they hadn’t intended in the first place. 

The last time he had been there, Tony had been the one to pick up the Tesseract and Steve had never gotten around to finding out the exact location of its safe. He did remember seeing Howard with Tony when they got to the rendezvous point and decided to follow Howard to his lab this time. The USAF badge and stolen uniform helped this time too, Steve getting past the base quickly without meeting anybody’s eyes. Howard was looking for Arnim Zola and Steve followed him to the basement lab, where he waited for Howard to leave before looked for the case that held the cube before. 

“This should not be easy,” he commented as he put it back in place, wondering at the security loopholes of SHIELD before eyeing the calmly gleaming cube, “If Tony were here again, he would have hacked into half of SHIELD by now.”

The Tesseract was the last stone, the last delivery in his schedule, and Steve stood in front of it for a minute. This was the end of his mission and he wanted one more minute, one more reminder of the point that had changed his world again. 

“I wish he was here,” he muttered, glancing away from the blue light, “I wish you were, Tony.”

This time there was no hurry to go save a world. This time there was no plan to stick to and Steve found himself lingering in the room he had hid in the last time. He didn’t know what he could do, what he could get to say or hear, but he remembered wanting one last conversation when Peggy had still been the girl he had left behind. 

When the door opened an hour later and Director Margaret Carter walked in, she stopped mid step as she stared at the man sitting at her table. 

“Hi, Peggy,” Steve said and smiled at the inhale of shock. 

It took twenty minutes for Steve to convince her that it really was him but not from her present. Her hand kept clenching before she consciously uncurled her fingers and by the end, she exhaled shakily but with a tremulous smile. 

“Sounds like you’ve had a really long day,” she said and Steve chuckled, “How about we continue this conversation someplace where you don’t cause a breakdown of about a hundred agents? I’m taking a sick day, let’s go home.”

“I thought you had work?” Steve asked even as he stood up and Peggy shot him a dry look, getting her coat. 

“And I thought you were dead,” she replied, dialing the desk phone, “Plans change, Steve.”

Peggy’s house was bare, furniture wrapped in sheets and resting in the garage. The floors had the scent of fresh wax and the walls were pristine, untouched for the most part. There were a few chairs placed in the living room and a heavy grandfather’s clock pressed to the wall. 

“We just moved and I’ve been busy while he’s been –” Peggy threw her coat over one of the chairs and shrugged, “-busy too. Though, he gets shot at less.”

“Husband?” 

“Don’t worry, he uses the same tone for you,” she shot him a tempered but amused look and gestured for Steve to sit down on one of the vacant chairs, “Will you have some coffee? Tea?”

“No, I’m good,” Steve sat on the chair and smiled when Peggy went to the fridge to bring them two beers.

“I figure we’ll need these for the rest of the conversation,” she offered him one and took her seat closer to the window, opening the bottle with a twist of her wrist, “So what’s your plan now? You said you had completed your mission.”

“I’m not so sure anymore,” Steve plucked at the label of the bottle before glancing up at Peggy, “Never really planned after this.”

Peggy took a swig of her beer and swallowed before leaning forward in her chair. 

“Then make one,” she said seriously before cracking a smile, “But first, tell me about your folks in the future. I’m curious to know about them.”

They sat chatting about the team without specifics, about Peggy’s work at SHIELD, and Steve felt comfortable sinking into the familiar flow of talking to her. Her eyes were animated as she spoke about her adventures and fond when she would sneak in anecdotes of her family, and Steve felt happy seeing her this way. 

“You know, I still remember your promise,” she said an hour later, at the end of her bottle, “You never did give me the dance we planned.”

“I missed my landing,” he said softly and smiled when his eyes caught the player beside the books on a shelf, “Though, I  _ am _ here and I’ve heard that it’s better to be late than never.”

“I hate tardiness,” Peggy quipped but her grin as she stood up to go put on some music made Steve roll his eyes fondly. 

They danced in an empty room, warm and alive, and Steve held Peggy in his arms as he rested his cheek on her temple. They had both lived different lives and had different futures ahead, Steve knew, but as she looked up at him with eyes glistening he was content. They were always important to each other, no matter what linked them at any time, and Steve closed his eyes as her lips brushed his with bittersweet warmth. 

“You could leave tomorrow, right?” Peggy asked as the day dwindled into dusk, “We’ll get breakfast in the morning. There’s a wonderful diner nearby that has the best pies. I insist that you don’t leave without tasting them.”

“Well, if it’s for pie,” Steve nodded with mock-seriousness and caught the pillow she threw in his face. He ended up spending the night at her place, sleeping in her living room after having dragged in some of the furniture that Peggy wanted him to bring in. 

The next morning, Peggy was smug when she was proven right and Steve couldn’t even pretend to be unaffected as he ate the best pie he had ever tasted. They ended up packing some for her lunch and Steve insisted on accompanying her to work. 

“If you do decide to stay longer,” Peggy said as she picked up her coat and bag from her car, turning to face Steve in the parking lot of SHIELD, “You should come meet everyone else too. I know that they’ll be delighted to see you again.”

“I could try some more pie”

“See? Now you’re getting it,” Peggy laughed before cupping a hand over Steve’s cheek for a minute, “Thank you for this. I’m glad that you found a life after all that happened.”

“I’m glad you did too, Peggy,” Steve squeezed her hand and waved when she took a step back to turn around, “Have a good day today.”

“I will if nobody screws it up for me!”

Steve watched her go and stood in the empty lot for a minute. His work was done. He had met the one he regretted not meeting the last time. There was nothing left to do and he turned around to leave. 

He was almost out of the base when someone bumped into him and Steve bent down to pick up the files of the flustered agent. He was waving off an apology and turned to his right, gaze skipping over the back of the barracks when he noticed someone staring at him from behind it, ducking away at Steve’s attention. 

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” he told the agent and walked away, a niggling doubt in his mind as he took off towards the spot in as casual a pace as he thought wouldn’t catch notice. He heard the shuffle of feet as he neared the place and saw the person walking away faster once Steve turned around the corner. They were walking towards a secluded spot, Steve noticed. 

Steve followed them out of the main base and into the abandoned storage unit where SHIELD usually kept things in for repairs or for those who had not been found from missions yet. He was walking in between rows of boxes when a hand snagged his jacket and pulled. 

His fist came up even as he turned and Steve came up swinging only to stop an inch away from the palm outstretched to stop him. 

“Can you not kill me for one second? I’m still getting used to not being dead!”

Steve felt the world pulled out from under his feet as the palm lowered to reveal the face of the person he had followed.

"Tony?"


	12. Chapter 12

There was an evening back in 2021, right before the Snap’s anniversary, when the roads of Manhattan were back to being busy and Steve had walked in the midst of an ignoring crowd. It was warm enough to skip a jacket when he had set out from his apartment but his hands were getting cold then, so he trudged the pavement of Park Avenue with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The Tower had long since lost its symbolic A and a more obsolete O gleamed down from the peak, jarring to Steve's eyes. 

He had stayed there, under their lost Tower, for longer than anybody waited outside their homes. When he was finally turning to leave, his eyes had caught a flash of a seemingly familiar brunet walking into the Tower and Steve had rushed in without thought. All he had considered was that he was finally seeing someone he hadn't known he could miss so much and his feet had hurried over the marble floors of the building. 

The disappointment that washed over him, bursting his bubble when the man turned around and Steve faced a stranger; that never left his mind. Broken hope was worse than unwise belief. 

As he stared at the man in front of him now, Steve could feel the risk of that same memory crash into him again. Any second now he would blink and the face would be someone else's. 

It would be anyone other than the one person he wanted it to be. 

His hand reached out without his own accord and the man eyed it warily before raising a brow at Steve when it traced his cheek, grazing the beard.

“If you’re checking for fractures that’s not how you do it,” he said and Steve felt his bubble burst but this time it wasn’t disappointment.

This time it was joy in its purest form.

“Oh God, Tony,” he whispered and his hand hovered over Tony’s shoulder, too many emotions running through his systems. There was a prayer nobody said enough, a merciful answer to the ravaged souls, and this was Steve witnessing it.

He couldn’t touch Tony and the man softened, edges withdrawing their defense and eyes lining with recognized kindness. Tony reached out and squeezed Steve’s shoulder, firm and warm and alive.

He couldn’t touch Tony for an instant and then he couldn’t stop himself from dragging himself towards him. Tony didn’t expect the hug at first and let out a half-bitten sound but steadied himself as Steve closed his arms around him, engulfing Tony as much as his body would allow him.

“Fuck,” Steve felt the word expel from deep within him, his hands shaking as he brought one to hold Tony’s head close and the other curled over the center of his spine. Tony patted his back hard once, twice, and then rested his hands curled around Steve’s shoulders. Steve swallowed hard before loosening his hands, pulling his arms back and took a step away to see Tony clearly.

“Hi,” Tony patted Steve’s shoulders before letting go.

“Hi,” Steve let out an incredulous huff before shaking his head, “How? Wait, which Tony Stark are you?”

“I’d be mildly worried if I didn’t understand the context,” Tony spread his arms apart and shrugged, “Still me, 2023. The last thing you saw me do was pull a cheap trick and say a cheesy line.”

“But you were dead,” Steve insisted, remembering the cold garage clearly, “I saw your body.”

“It’s a long story, but you’re not wrong,” Tony ran a hand through his hair and eyed his surroundings, “That really was me and my body. Can we talk somewhere else? I’m pretty sure this isn’t the most covert place in the area and I’d like to not be starving if we’re going to be shot at anytime soon. Do you have any cash?”

“I – yeah,” Steve pulled himself together and looked over his shoulder, “There’s a diner I went to this morning. We could get something before we leave.”

“First food,” Tony agreed and Steve gestured for him to move ahead, watching his back as they made their way out.

They got a corner table and the waitress gave him a second look but didn’t question his reappearance. Tony demolished his meal in less time than it took Steve to take two bites of his pie and then drank two cups of coffee like it was water.

“So, you have questions,” Tony took a sip of his third coffee and eyed Steve above the cup, “Should we do them in alphabetical order or a timeline?”

“How did you get here?”

“I’m not sure,” Tony staved off Steve’s frown with a look, “Really. The only thing I know is that I woke up in my dad’s lab in front of the Tesseract and had to get out once I realized that I wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“Tesseract,” Steve echoed, an odd thought coming to mind, “Wait. Is this because of the wish? I wished for you to be back in front of the Tesseract yesterday, is this –”

“I know that the Ancient lady made a reference, but you’re not Aladdin, Steve,” Tony swallowed another mouthful of coffee and pointed at himself with the cup, “And I certainly am not Jasmine.”

“That’s not what I -,” Steve paused, staring at Tony as the comment became clearer to him, “How do you know what she said? You weren’t there.”

“I was,” Tony nodded, putting his cup down, “You were carrying me with you. Multiple me, actually, though that still freaks -”

“Tony,” Steve cut through Tony’s spiral and took a breath before holding his gaze firmly, “What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t realize it right away,” Tony began, running a finger over the rim of his cup, “The stones are sentient energies, a lot like AIs really. But just more cosmically connected ones. We see them as just gems with magical powers, right?”

“Right”

“But they’re more than that. They have agency of their own in a strange way. Probably why the Soul stone works like that,” Tony shook his head, bringing his thoughts back to the present, “Anyway, when I snapped their powers open, it wasn’t just a generic idea of death. It had to be calculated, specific. And while the energy generated from that affected my body, the powers weren’t directed at killing _me_. That wasn’t in their set of rules, the code of the command. So, in an attempt to house what they had released from my body, they took me in.”

“How?”

“By absorbing me into them,” Tony nodded at the horror that must have shown on Steve’s face, “Yeah, believe me, it was disorienting. My essence was split into the integral components that made up the stones and I was basically brought down to five parts that were safe in them. I couldn’t make sense of it till you landed in Morag.”

“You could see?” Steve forced himself to breathe at the picture that was being painted.

“Not till I figured out how to focus,” Tony took another long gulp of his coffee, “At first it was just an awareness of something being released. Like one part of me was free.”

Steve remembered the pressure under his skin, an awareness prickling at his nape as he put the Power stone back.

“That was you,” he observed, “I felt it.”

“Yeah, I think I latched on to the nearest energy source and that was you,” Tony nodded before wiping his hand on a tissue, “It wasn’t easy then but then something happened in Asgard and it became easier to let myself link to your senses. See what you could see, hear what you could hear. With every stone you returned, a part of me was released from them and I became more – alive, I guess.”

“We should get you checked out when we get back,” Steve said with an overwhelmed exhale, smiling as he looked at Tony, “Bruce is going to really insist that you go to a hospital and I’m pretty sure Pepper will drag you there herself if you disagree – Tony?”

Tony had gone silent as he spoke and Steve could see his jaw work, eyes diverted away.

“Tony? What’s going on?”

“That’s the other thing about this whole ‘me being alive’ thing,” Tony took a breath and met Steve’s eyes with a steely look, “I can’t go back.”

Steve opened his mouth before shutting it, a chill spreading through his veins as the surety in Tony’s voice sank in. He wasn’t joking. He was serious.

“We should leave,” he declared, putting down the bills he had brought, “The staff’s starting to give us looks. And I think they won’t like the conversation we’re going to have.”

“I’m not sure that’s going to end well,” Tony muttered but stood up as Steve moved out of the booth, following him out of the place. They ended up walking through the streets in silence and Steve didn’t know where they’d end up but Tony was following him without protest. It was quiet between them, a cloud shading them from the upcoming storm.

They finally found a an alley that was considerably ignored by people, a cat jumping into the trash chute when they disturbed it.

“Okay, before you lose it,” Tony raised a hand when Steve turned to face him, his back facing the wall, “Will you hear me out completely?”

Steve forced his jaw to unclench and nodded shortly.

“Remember how I told you that the stones are sentient?” Tony waited till Steve nodded before continuing, “Right. When you use them to do something, change the course of life in any magnitude, you have to have a will strong enough to match your desire. Something to prove your worth, in a way, if that makes sense. When you’re reversing the effect of the stones themselves, it’s lesser. Like Bruce’s Snap, that was him releasing a blocked passage of life. Putting things back to how they had been running before the stones were forced to take away something that wasn’t meant to stop existing. It’s why they didn’t ‘die’ when Thanos snapped. There was no blood or evidence. It was like they stopped existing, displaced from the plane of their lives. Bruce didn’t have to force them to change the course of life. He had to control their powers to crack the lock, to pull back into the line. That’s why it was a test of his control.”

“But it wasn’t the same for you,” Steve surmised, joining the dots in his head.

“Do you know what it takes to kill?” Tony had a distant look in his eye, “The usual answers would be a good weapon, an easy target, or the wrong move at the right time. The base though, the base of every variation of the answer though is the same.”

“Choice,” Steve said and Tony nodded with a bitter smile.

“Got it in one,” he exhaled and continued, shoulders stiff, “It’s the one thing that separates a death from murder. And that’s what the Snap does – murder. It’s not the toughest thing for the stones to grant but it does involve a choice, so it requires you to make another choice of your own. A weight to balance the action you’re asking of them. One finality to match another.”

“Nobody else died,” Steve commented, the pieces falling into place with slow dread in his mind, “Your choice came true but nobody else became the price.”

“No”

“Tony,” Steve pulled out the words through the knot in his chest, “What did you choose?”

“It had to be the one thing I valued most,” Tony looked old, much older than he had before.

“Morgan and Pepper were fine,” Steve heard himself from a distance, the thoughts becoming clearer faster than his words could come out, “And you’d said – earlier you had said that you couldn’t risk –”

“My second chance,” Tony completed the sentence, his smile wan, “I was pretty specific when the demand came. The choice had to be mine, affecting me. The world in the balance and the only thing I could match to that was my desire to be with my family. The deal worked, and now I can’t go back. Not to any timeline where either of them are my reality.”

Steve stared at the man in front of him and wondered why he hadn’t understood before that there were worse fates than death, worse realities than knowing that someone wouldn’t come back. Tony was here, alive and whole, but he couldn’t come home.

“You have a daughter who watched a projection of you tell her that you loved her yesterday,” Steve dragged the words out, knowing that frustration was bleeding through but not caring, “Pepper watched your reactor float down a lake and had to hold herself together because she didn’t have any other option. Rhodey had to carry your body off the battlefield and then tell a public of strangers why his best friend was a hero.”

“Your guilt-trips are so much better when they’re just judgemental looks,” Tony sounded calm but dangerously so. Steve was high past being deterred.

“You honestly think this only affects you?” he asked, throwing a hand out behind him, “You think this whole madness will matter only to you?”

“What do you want me to say?!” Tony demanded, eyes blazing, “I had to choose between letting them die, letting everyone die or make a deal to save the world! It was a desperate choice, Steve!”

“It was a selfish choice,” Steve countered, “This is a goddamn selfish, cruel choice!”

“You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?!”

“I do!” Steve dropped his voice, raw breath scraping his throat and Tony was breathing hard, blinking as he stared at Steve, “I do, I’ve made them before. Why do you think I know this isn’t fair?”

Tony eyed him for a minute, gradually calming down as they both fell silent and Steve could feel exhaustion sweep through him in a post-battle remembrance.

“I never said it was a fair choice,” he said after a while and Steve refused to look at him, staring down at his own hands as he leaned against the wall, “I know you don’t agree, I know why and I don’t expect anything lesser from you. It’s a good thing, really. But Steve, if I have to choose between my kid getting to have a life and me seeing my family for a few more minutes or however long it would take for the balance to collapse once you drag me back – if that was a choice, I will always choose what I chose. Is it cruel? Maybe. Is it selfish? Absolutely. Will I still make the choice? Yes.”

Steve glanced up at Tony and he was regarding him with something resembling empathy.

“So what’s your plan?” he asked, eyeing Tony’s clothes, “Go as Howard Potts and what, work at MIT in a time when you weren’t born? With no resources or actual connections?”

“I’m pretty scrappy,” Tony shrugged a shoulder, “Also, I’m not sure about MIT but that is an excellent suggestion that I will take under advisement.”

“Right,” Steve leaned away from the wall and dragged a hand over his face, taking a breath before looking at Tony, “Let’s go.”

“Go?” Tony eyed the entrance of the alley and looked back at Steve, “Go where? You could use the time coordinator from here.”

“We’re going to go meet someone I trust and get us some resources,” Steve explained, shooting Tony a dry look, “After that we’re going to come up with an actual plan to survive another day.”

“Steve, buddy, you’re not making any sense,” Tony frowned, a suspicious look on his face and Steve shot him a innocent grin.

“You want to stand by your choice? That’s fine. I’m making my own now,” he dusted his hands on his jacket and raised a brow at Tony’s expression, “You didn’t actually think that I was going to leave you here alone and go, did you? I told you, Tony, we do things together.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me” Tony looked gobsmacked for a second before shaking his head, “Steve, you have to leave. Your time is up. And I’m not coming to meet anyone who might potentially punch me.”

“Come on, I think she’ll find this whole thing interesting,” Steve clapped a hand on Tony’s shoulder and nudged him forward, “And I’ve got five seconds. That’s plenty to convince you why you’re wrong.”

“You’re going to be stuck here forever,” Tony warned him but moved alongside Steve, tugging his dress straight.

“I did that once before,” Steve reminded him and looked ahead at the street they were entering, bright against his eye, “I think I can handle this.”

They ended up waiting at Peggy’s house and Tony kept shooting Steve increasingly changing looks of emotions as time passed. They didn’t talk for a while but then Tony finally moved to come sit beside Steve on the steps, starting a conversation about his own funeral. He approved of the decision to include Natasha’s memorial and made a face at Ross being present at the lakehouse. When Steve told him about Happy, he noted the sadly fond flash pass across Tony’s eyes.

“We really did bring them all back, huh?” Tony leaned back and turned his head to look at Steve, a hint of awe in his voice.

“Christine Everhart had a lot of opinions on your last words being the ones from your big press conference,” Steve scuffed his shoe against the ground with a faint smile before looking up at Tony, “Hope had some colourful words when she kept trying to get Scott to comment on things.”

It was a peaceful moment beneath the obvious tension that still lingered and they chatted quietly till Steve heard the sound of the gate well into the evening.

Peggy walked in and shut the gate behind her before she noted her uninvited guests, looking between them for a minute before sighing.

“Steve, please don’t tell me there are more time-travellers dropping in,” she looked at Steve exasperatedly before turning to Tony, “Who are you?”

“Someone you really don’t want here,” Tony replied with a wide smile and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Remember the friends I told you about?” Steve asked Peggy and watched her recollect the ones he had mentioned, “Well, turns out ‘dead’ isn’t an accurate verdict for all of them.”

Peggy stared at Steve with a blank expression before turning to walk up to her door.

“I’m going to need a strong cup of tea for this.”


	13. Chapter 13

The first thing Peggy had done once they had finished explaining was to walk out of the room saying that she needed four hours of rest. Tony had turned to Steve the minute she had left and mouthed a cheerful looking ‘We’re fucked’.

The second thing she had done was the next morning, when she had stared at Tony across the newly arranged dining table before telling him to accompany her to work that day. Steve had been largely ignored.

Tony had come back with Peggy at the end of that day looking fifty shades of overwhelmed but he had a new identity proof and a chance to find his footing.

They stayed at Peggy’s place for a night before Tony got Howard’s number from her and made a call as Doctor Potts. Steve didn’t know how well the two men knew or understood each other but by the end of the conversation Tony was able to procure a Stark guesthouse to use till they had a more concrete plan.

Steve spent the days working through the cases that Peggy brought him to get inputs, the oddities and doubtful, and Tony kept himself busy consulting on Howard’s projects at the base. They didn’t discuss their current predicament but Steve could sense Tony’s silence getting tenser with each passing day. It was a thin sheet of ice but they were still standing on it, still afloat and Steve let it be till the crack would come.

Which brought him to the day two weeks later, when they were eating dinner and he pushed the bottle of water towards Tony to get a more serious look than the action warranted.

“What happens to the world that came back?” he twisted on the couch and faced Steve, who blew on his forkful of spaghetti, “There’s going to be complete chaos, it’s been five years for some and a few seconds for the rest. How exactly are they going to cope?”

“They’ll need a lot of time,” Steve wiped a thumb across his lips, gathering the sauce before licking it, “And a good deal of coordination.”

“Sounds like a job you should be doing.”

“Should be something you could be doing too,” Steve pointed out and Tony looked at the ceiling before shooting him a baleful look, leaning forward to pick up the bottle of water, “Are you really trying the guilt route with me?”

“Why, do you have a copyright to it?” Tony cracked the lid open and took a drink, keeping eye contact with Steve as he did it.

Steve shook his head as he dug through his food, the silence falling back between them as they indulged in the mundane.

“I tried to talk to Nat,” the beds were apart, separated by a rust orange table that held the simple lamp still on. There was one more bedroom across the hall and Tony had taken it during the first few days until Steve had found him having a panic attack on the third day in the dark. The next morning they had dragged the spare bed to the larger room and they had both lived through enough nightmares to not comment on it. Simple reassurances weren’t worth over-thinking when there were losses they both carried.

“At Vormir,” Steve continued, head resting on an arm as he stared up at the ceiling, “I thought I could do something, I don’t know what, but maybe see her one last time. Skull said it worked once before.”

There was a crack along the corner of the ceiling, curved in its path and if you looked at it long enough it looked like an embedded alphabet. The light from the lamp played shadows on the wall and Steve wasn’t sure what letter was searching for.

“It’s probably good that it didn’t work,” he observed, “I’m not sure it would have ended well.”

“It worked”

Steve turned his head and saw Tony lying ramrod straight, eyes closed but facing the ceiling.

“What?”

“It worked,” Tony repeated and outstretched a hand to switch the light out, “It just didn’t work with you. The stone gave the chance to someone who was closer.”

Steve stared at him in the dark, still able to make out the outline of his form and turned around on the bed to face Tony.

“You spoke with her?” he asked, curiosity bleeding through, “What did she say?”

“Something important,” Tony shifted on his bed and turned till his back faced Steve, “I’ll tell you when you leave for home again.”

Steve considered throwing a pillow and hard. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly instead.

They were at the end of the month when Steve came home in the evening and Tony was already there, sitting on the living room couch staring at the coffee table. There was an air of shock about him and Steve looked at the surroundings for a second, trying to see anything out of ordinary, before slowly making his way to the stunned man.

“Tony?” he tried and kept his hand to himself, coming closer till he was at an angle to see him clearer, “What’s wrong?

“I had an interesting conversation today,” Tony sounded dazed for a beat before he inhaled, “With d- Howard.”

“You called him?”

“He called,” Tony rubbing a hand over his mouth, “He wanted to announce that he was a father, finally. It was a successful delivery late last night, at around 11.40 p.m.”

“What’s –”

“Father to a baby girl,” Tony spoke over Steve and finally looked up, eyes sharp, a conflicted mess of shards, “They had a girl. He wanted to know if I had any good names since Maria isn’t too happy with his suggestions yet. You know, since I told him I had a girl myself.”

Steve stared down at Tony, one hand holding the files he had brought with him and the other slack against his side, hearing his own heartbeat echo in his ears. He eyed the man in front of him, the one who death had swallowed to spit back into a time where his existence had stopped altogether.

“Shit,” his lips formed the word before he could think it and Tony let out a strangled laugh, the numbness breaking in increments as the reality began hitting him in waves.

“That’s the summary, yes,” Tony pressed his palms to his face and breathed hard, not looking up when Steve dropped the files on the table to sit next to him. He held it together for two minutes, trying not to fall apart before the first sob came and Steve rubbed a hand over his shoulder as Tony let everything hit him. They sat with a distance till Tony cursed, Morgan’s memory wracking him right alongside the knowledge that Maria wouldn’t be his mother here, no second chances again.

Steve held him in a loose hold as Tony buried his tears in the cotton of Steve’s shoulder, hands clenching fistfuls of his shirt.

“We broke the fucking world,” Tony swore against his shoulder and Steve shut his eyes, swallowing hard as he did the only thing he hadn’t been good at doing in the past. He held on.

“We should go visit them,” Steve said an hour later, handing Tony a glass of water, sitting down beside him as he watched the man drink, “We can’t stay in New Jersey forever.”

“What the hell will I say to the people who apparently aren’t my parents anymore?” Tony had bloodshot eyes but his voice was calmer after the water, “What will _you_ say?”

“We’ll figure it out,” Steve assured him, passing a cushion that was behind him, “We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

“That seems to be a theme,” Tony ran a hand over his face but didn’t disagree, jamming the cushion behind his neck. They couldn’t sleep that night but stayed together on the couch, reading through files of cases long closed in a world they were both alienated from now.

When Tony called Howard the next day, the man was delighted to know that he’d be expecting a visit. They ended up borrowing a SHIELD car and Steve put together a few final loose ends while Tony managed to wrap things up with his project. It took them another couple of days before they were ready to leave and Peggy came by with her husband to wish them luck.

Steve didn’t comment when Tony tossed him the keys and let him drive, taking the offer as they rolled out of the guest house. It would have been faster to take a ferry or the train but they were both alright with taking the long way around, letting themselves have some extra time to sort their thoughts out. Tony put the radio on and changed the stations till he stopped as a newly joined Mariska Veres began crooning an ode to _Venus_ for the Shocking Blue. Bruce had introduced him to the song once, during the early times of getting to know, and it had been his ice-breaker. He had spent fifteen minutes talking about why the song mentioned ‘godness’ instead of ‘goddess’ and his fascination with psychedelic bands before stopping to ask if Steve was bored. Tony had barged in then, coming from a meeting with Fury, and had answered for Steve whatever he thought fit.

Today, Tony sat in the seat beside him lost in his own thoughts, staring out the window with his feet up on the dash and Steve didn’t bother to tell him to take it off.

The Stark Mansion resembled the white model Steve had seen in Tony’s lakehouse, imposing in its immaculate grandeur.

“Not a big ugly building,” Tony quipped as he looked away from the place to eye Steve, his borrowed sunglasses slipping down the bridge of nose till Steve could see his eyes.

“The other one grew on me,” Steve shrugged a shoulder and the crowds around them were the same, still not much bothered by the lives of strangers walking beside them.

“Like a fungus?” Tony raised a brow, his hands in the suit pockets.

“Don’t ask, won’t tell,” Steve said dryly and the other man made a face before looking up at the building, “You ready?”

“Let’s find out,” Tony straightened his back and they walked into the mansion, ready to cause yet another mess.

They were greeted by a butler when they reached the foyer and Steve was attuned enough to Tony’s body language to sense recognition, eyeing the man a second time before he realized who it was.

“Doctor Potts,” Edwin Jarvis greeted politely before turning to address Steve, taking a moment before smoothing over his pause, “You must be Captain Stevens? Welcome, gentlemen. I am Edwin Jarvis, and Mr. Stark will be here soon. If you could please take a seat, make yourselves comfortable, I’ll send for some refreshments.”

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Tony said and the man blinked but Steve moved before he could question the casual affliction in tone. Jarvis left them to go inform Howard and Steve took in the room around him, noting the details and handpicked furniture.

“You okay?” Steve asked quietly, glancing at Tony discreetly as they waited, “I don’t think throwing up will help our case.”

“It never has, trust me,” Tony rolled his shoulders lightly and Steve could see the mask fall into place as they heard Howard, the showman coming to stage, “I fully approve of a tactical retreat if you see things going downhill, just saying.”

Things didn’t go downhill, not for a while. Howard was in a great mood, eyes alight with joy and a wonder that went deeper than Steve had ever seen in any of his pictures. He did a double take when he saw Steve and his smile became confused before he pulled it back, engaging both of them in conversation. For once Steve was glad of having let his beard grow back out and the hair dye he had bought the previous week.

It went fine till Tony let the first bomb drop.

“Not from here?” Howard echoed, looking between them before staring at Tony, “I’m sorry pal, I don’t think I understand.”

Steve watched Howard’s jovial expression shift gradually into a blank look as Tony explained, leaving out parts that they really couldn’t explain. Steve resisted the urge to clench his hands when Tony explained about him and Howard’s eyes widened, glued to Steve even as Tony’s words sped up.

“I know it sounds like horse- unbelievable,” Tony rested his elbows on his knees and held Howard’s eyes, “But it’s the truth. It wouldn’t have been safe to reveal anything before but now –”

“Now I have a daughter,” Howard surmised, omitting the rest of the realization and took a pause before looking at Steve, “Did you meet Pegs?”

“She still hates that nickname,” Steve smiled slightly and Howard nodded with a surprised huff, “Congratulations on your kid, Howard. I know this is a lot to take in but I’m glad we got to tell you.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Tony asked awkwardly, looking completely unsure of what to expect.

“Ask me later and I’ll let you know,” Howard laughed, the shock still fading from his voice but he took a breath before gazing at Tony, “For now, you still want to meet my baby girl?”

Steve stayed silent, letting Tony decide and brushed his shoulder against the man when he nodded, a silent gesture of support.

Maria looked tired but pleasant when she greeted them, a resting babe in her arms. When Howard asked if either of them wanted to hold her they refused, content on seeing her rest in her mother’s arms. She had soft wisps of dark hair and her eyes weren’t in the mood to remain open enough to observe her guests. Tony touched her clenched hand with a finger and smiled softly when she jerked before trying to grab it.

“You can always come work with me, you know,” Howard told Tony as they prepared to leave an hour later, eyes lingering on him before looking at Steve, “Or with SHIELD, full-time. I know we’re not the same as what you had but there’s always a world that needs good men and smart men to look out for it. And you’re both New Yorkers, move back here. Hell, I’d say move into the mansion but I can see that you’re not going to agree.”

Tony smirked when Howard shook his head with a laugh.

“Fine, that’s fine, but pick a place. Any place here,” he waved a hand out, looking between the two men, selling a pitch more real than he had anytime before, “Don’t be strangers.”

“You’re taking this way better than I expected,” Tony informed him but Howard shrugged, smiling at Steve.

“It’s never a bad day when people don’t die,” he said and shot Tony a hesitant look, “Though I _am_ sorry that you had to miss your family to be here. Don’t suppose I’ve met her in your time?”

Tony shook his head once and Howard nodded to himself, noting the implications but clapped him in the back.

“Hey,” he said suddenly as they turned to walk towards the entrance, “You got any good names?”

Tony quirked his lips at Steve and he knew, he knew what the man was going to say even before he opened his mouth.

“How about Natasha?” he suggested and bumped his hand against Steve’s when Howard raised his brows.

“Natasha Stark,” Howard tried, face creasing into a slow smile when he heard it out loud, “That might just work.”

They didn’t move to New York completely until two months later, when Tony finally understood that Steve was showing no hint of leaving.

“You know that you’re not trapped here, right?” he asked as Steve did the dishes, Tony’s cooking wiped clean from their plates.

“Did you finally find the spare key then?” Steve asked and caught the dishtowel Tony threw at him without turning back, “Yes, I know. And now we have a wet towel, thank you for that.”

“You could have let it hit you,” Tony’s footsteps moved behind him and Steve could picture the stilted jerks of his hand gestures, “There are people you missed for five years and now they’re back in a time you could be in too. Sam, Wanda, Sharon, Barnes – tell me they’re not worth going back for.”

“They are,” Steve agreed, watching the water wash away the suds on the plain plate, scrubbing at the edges, “They’re all worth fighting for. And you’re right, I did spend five years wanting to save them.”

“So what has changed now?”

“Nothing,” Steve dunked the plate in the water again and picked up the other one, “I’m just trying something new this time.”

“What’s that?” Tony sounded closer and Steve looked over his shoulder to see him leaning against the counter, left hand in his pocket.

“I’m trying to save myself too,” Steve said with an attempt at a smile and Tony didn’t say anything, looking at him with an analyzing stare before he broke the gaze, letting Steve get back to his dishes.

“Are you going to try saving Bucky this time?” Tony asked after a pause and Steve smiled at the lack of tension in the tone. It had surprised both of them when they had learnt to discuss Bucky without the burn of the worst wounds ripping open, his name not dragging up bad blood from a past that now looked oddly distant. They had both grown into spaces that hadn’t fit them earlier, finding ways to fit edges into aching hollows, and Bucky would remain both versions of their memories but he was also someone too human in their conversations now. Time didn’t heal wounds, not really, but it had given them the tools to build their own bandages.

“If we meet him, yes,” Steve replied because there were enough lies to keep track of, enough words left unsaid from the past and this wasn’t one to add to that list.

“But not seek him out?” Tony sounded perplexed and Steve could understand that. He knew his own tendencies well enough to know that it was expected of him and it wasn’t far off an accurate calculation. Tony knew him that way. So did Bucky, Steve remembered the last conversation he had had with the man before leaving on this journey.

_“What?” Steve paused eating, spoon half-way to his mouth as he frowned at his friend, “What do you mean?”_

_“I need you to promise,” Bucky repeated, sitting across Steve with a straw twirling between his fingers, “that you won’t interfere in my life until we actually meet.”_

_“Bucky – I’m just returning the stones,” Steve defended himself but Bucky snorted, eyes piercing in the look he shot._

_“Yeah, and you were just going to join the Army,” Bucky pointed out with an amused look, “Until someone offered you a magic serum to become the Army’s greatest weapon and you shot it up without a second question. You think your overenthusiastic habit is new? I’d be surprised if you don’t run around the past trying to rewrite everything.”_

_“Changing the past doesn’t change the future,” Steve quoted Bruce but sighed when Bucky continued to give him a judging look, “Get out of here with that look, you can’t actually read my mind.”_

_“Look,” Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table, “I get it, there’s too much that’s gone wrong and a lot of things that you think you can stop if you fix some things. And maybe it’s true for some things, I don’t know, but I’m talking about me and I need you to listen, Steve. I don’t know where you’re gonna end up and honestly, I shouldn’t. But if you’re gonna go hunting through time for me or try to find the Winter Soldier of another time thinking that you’re saving me, I need you to not do that.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because you didn’t live my life and I didn’t live the life that guy’s gonna live,” Bucky said calmly, “I’m not telling you to not try if you actually meet him, if you ever run into a situation where you come across the guy. I know you can’t do that, there’s no use talking about that. But you can’t **create** situations where your worlds collide. That doesn’t go well for anyone and I’m not sure he’s gonna appreciate the memories of a life he hasn’t lived, your memories or mine. Don’t do that to him. Or to yourself.”_

_Steve looked conflicted for a second but Bucky was steady in his silence and he finally nodded._

_“You find a way to save yourself, punk,” Bucky squeezed his shoulder and quirked his lips when Steve made a face, “Things don’t go well for anyone when you forget to do that.”_

“I’m gonna do what needs to be done right now, Tony,” Steve offered and turned to look at him, “That’s the best I’ve got for you.”

Tony’s eyes ran over his face for a minute before he exhaled with a nod.

“Fine then. We should leave.”

“What?” Steve frowned but Tony smiled, just a little.

“If we’re going to do our best,” he quipped, “then we should do it from the place we do it best.”

“So, we’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, eyes dancing under the kitchen light, “Let’s go home.”

They moved into a Manhattan apartment on a warm summer day in August and Tony signed up to work with SI as Steve joined duty as a SHIELD agent.

They kept their new surnames and Doctor Potts became the roommate of Captain Stevens.


	14. Chapter 14

They spent the first anniversary of their lives as Doctor Potts and Captain Stevens battling rogue weaponized armours that weren’t of Tony’s creation.

“What happened to being a pacifist?” Tony yelled as he ducked the lasers and used a halved table as shield before throwing one of the knives he had picked up from the buffet, “Who are these bots pacifying, Hank?”

“I didn’t think that SHIELD would _weaponize_ them!” Hank yelled back over the comm. and Steve moved just in time to dodge the blasts from the Ant-Man suit, “Can you switch the codes or not?!”

“If you say no, I’m firing these at you, Potts!” Janet quipped, flying in between the beams from the bot chasing her, “You won’t look nice with a partially shaved head, I’m telling you.”

“And here I thought you knew I looked good in everything, Jan,” Tony’s voice had a bit of rush, like he was running and Steve caught sight of him moving to the control room. He braced himself and threw the bot that charged at him, running as soon as his hands were free.

“I’m on my way to the control room,” he relayed on the comm., eyes darting over the room, “Anybody got eyes on the Stark fa –”

“Stevens!” a voice called out from above and Steve looked to see Howard Stark leaning over the banister of the stairs, “Catch!”

Steve was jumping, hands open and ready even as he dodged the damaged bots stumbling into him. He got under comfortably and took the weight of his new arrival.

He spared one look above but Howard had already got back to fighting the bot who was attempting to get past him, a gun in hand.

“Okay,” Steve told himself and then once more to the curious eyes staring up at him in his arms, “Okay?”

Natasha grinned and buried her face in his neck, tiny arms curling against his shoulders.

“Okay,” he repeated and ran, the baby tucked close to his chest, shielding her with his body as his feet raced towards the control room that was one floor below.

Tony’s fingers were flying across the keyboards when Steve managed to reach the place and he didn’t pause even as he noted the new entry.

“What’s the situation up there?” Tony asked, eyes reading the screens at lightning speed.

“Howard threw his baby at me,” Steve said, looking at the door to check if there was any threat before glancing down at the little girl who was now staring at Tony, “You find that interesting? You understand what he’s writing?”

“She always understands me, don’t you Anastasia?” Tony shot Steve a quick look that screamed _he **threw** what_ but he was back to working, voice still calm and soothing for the baby, “I’ll just be a minute and then we can get back to your nap time, okay?”

It took Tony less than a minute, thankfully, and he grinned brightly when Steve offered him the baby to go check if the bots had been stopped. The scene upstairs was a disaster but of a calmer variety, the aftermath of a particularly violent food fight painting the walls. Most of the guests of the party had run out when the first punch was thrown so only Hank, Janet, and the Starks remained.

“She’s fine,” Steve assured Maria when he caught sight of her looking around, the golf club still clutched in her hands, “She’s with –”

“The only person who had the sense to not leave his work unlocked,” Tony announced, walking into the room behind Steve, brushing Natasha’s hair aside before shooting Howard a deadpan look, “If you want her to fly, we can build her something when she’s older. Do we have to play projectile free fall with her now?”

“That was a good catch,” Hank commented and winced when Jan shot daggers at him.

Meeting Hank Pym and Janet Van Dyne had been one of the better parts of the year they had spent, both in different situations but both gaining them friends. Tony and Jan got on like a house on fire, both larger than life personalities finding an easy mesh of compatibility with their wit and humour. Steve liked talking to her too, her charm and ability to keep a conversation going compensating for his more reserved times. Hank had more of a sharper edge to his personality and he ended up becoming Tony’s friend through a series of arguments in SHIELD labs that steadily became more productive. With Steve he was respectful in a way, more tempered and open to following orders.

Both Jan and Tony maintained that it was only Steve’s unnaturally good looks that brought out this awed crush. Steve was filing that under things he didn’t ever need to take seriously.

Later that evening, after having indulged in the leftovers from the party for dinner, Steve was reading up on the last mission’s reports when Tony knocked on his bedroom door.

“It’s open,” Steve said as he looked up from his bed, putting his file on his lap when Tony came in with a small eyeroll, “You were the one who knocked.”

“You make a fuss when I don’t,” Tony pointed out as he came to the bed and silently glared at Steve’s feet.

“I make a fuss when it’s closed and you barge in without knocking,” Steve corrected him, raising a brow, “There’s a chair right there, why can’t you sit there?”

“You make a fuss when I sit in your chair, Steve”

“That was one time and there was paint on – oh fine,” Steve moved his feet till there was enough space and Tony sat down with a satisfied grin, “Did you come here to complain about everything I make a fuss about or do you have another reason too?”

“Yes,” Tony said and kept grinning, making Steve squint at him before poking at him with his toes.

“Are you going to tell me tonight or is this a mind-reading game?”

“All I get is sass but,” Tony reached into his hoodie’s pocket and brought out an envelope, “I got you a gift.”

“Why?” Steve asked but took the envelope when Tony began waving it. It was a bright red rectangle, the kind that came with greeting cards, and there was a single word written on it in gold ink – _Steve_.

“The ideal response is thank you”

“Thank you,” Steve repeated in the driest tone he could muster before turning the envelope over in his hands, “But seriously, why?”

“It’s our anniversary present,” Tony declared and Steve’s eyes shot up, brows rising as he regarded Tony with renewed attention.

“I hate to break it to you, Tony, but we’re not married,” he reminded with a faux-innocent look and made a face when Tony flicked at his ankle.

“It’s our anniversary of a new life in an old town,” Tony insisted and shifted till he could face Steve better, “It’s a big deal. I like days of big deals, okay?”

“So you got me a gift,” Steve commented, eyeing the envelope when Tony nodded, “I didn’t get you a gift.”

“Don’t worry, you can handle Carter for me next week when she comes asking about the suit plans,” Tony waved a hand and gestured at the envelope, “Now open it.”

“What suit plans? Tony, what –”

“Leave some mystery for later, Cap, keeps things exciting,” Tony cut him off and patted the bed to emphasize, “Now open the envelope already, will you?”

Steve shot him a look that promised that they would discuss these unknown plans later but opened the envelope, reaching in to pull a folded piece of paper out.

“What’s – oh.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Tony began, gesturing at both of them, “We’re obviously trained and we gel well with both Ant-Man and Wasp. The fight today might have taken longer and gotten messier if we hadn’t helped out. Well, you helped out and I did most of the important work. Still, the point is, we’re capable of being more than just helpers to the existing heroes.”

“You’re talking about getting back into the fray,” Steve looked down at the paper and the model of a new uniform, a slight resemblance to his old stealth suit, looked back at him, “Tony, I can’t be Captain America again.”

They had talked about it six months ago, the idea of looking for the Steve Rogers of this timeline. Howard had been dropping hints for months, right after they had introduced themselves to him, but Steve had been hesitant. Finally six months after moving to New York, he had agreed and Tony had given Howard the coordinates that Steve had been found at in their timeline.

Howard had been a mess for almost a month after they had turned up unsuccessful and Steve had refused to pursue the line of thought since then. They didn’t know what had changed or gone another way but whatever it was, he wasn’t willing to endanger the life of those in the present for the possibility of a future he didn’t know anymore.

He’d gotten invested in SHIELD activities and Tony hadn’t mentioned it either.

“You don’t have to be,” Tony said and Steve looked up to find him giving him an understanding look, “You don’t have to be Captain America, Steve. You weren’t that for about seven years but that didn’t stop you from being a hero. From helping people. This is just a chance to do the same thing again, with whatever title you choose.”

Steve looked at the design and let himself think about it. SHIELD wasn’t always what he wanted but he hadn’t really considered another way to do what he was good at doing.

“I think I might have a name,” he said, looking at Tony with a smile before folding the paper, “Thank you for the gift, Tony.”

“Good,” Tony nodded with approval before grinning, “Now about the suit plans”

They came together in increments, the idea of a new team in a new time. There were days when Steve would turn back expecting Falcon’s wings or Clint’s arrows flying through the air. Tony didn’t choose red for his suit and the black and gold variant was done intentionally to try and have a new beginning. It took them bad days and quiet days, memories of the old merging with the new. It took them time and effort but Steve saw it coming together.

On Natasha’s second birthday, she asked for a picnic and Tony was an absolute sucker for the idea. Howard was ready to come along but couldn’t make it on the day and that was where the mood began going downhill.

Steve was trying to catch Tony’s eye throughout the afternoon but the other man found every method in the book to avoid it. There weren’t many people, nowhere near as many as there had been during her first birthday, and at first Natasha had been completely okay with it. They cut a home-baked cake that Jarvis had brought along and Maria sang for her daughter.

And then Maria got a call that required her to leave, her voice soft as she tried to explain it to Natasha. The picnic ended with less fanfare than it had begun and Steve felt bad as Natasha’s face looked withdrawn when Jarvis ushered them to leave.

It was sweet to see her brighten up when Tony asked Jarvis if they could take her to the apartment for the night.

“A sleepover for the birthday girl,” Tony looked at an excited Natasha and smiled his best smile, “Sounds like a great idea, doesn’t it?”

Steve wasn’t sure about that but he figured that it was worth a shot if it made the kid happy.

That was the first time she had ever come to their place and it was also the least messy stay.

“I’m the Cherry Knight,” Steve heard one day when he had returned from a two day trip to Vancouver. The voice was recognizable easily now, having heard stories and complaints and questions endlessly over the four years they had known the little blue-eyed firecracker.

Steve removed his boots by the door and shut the door behind him, the lock reading his palm as it clicked without a sound. The sounds were coming from the kitchen and Steve hoped they weren’t making pizza again.

It had taken him three hours to remove the stain from the ceiling the last time.

He walked through the living room and peered in the direction of the compact kitchen to see Natasha sitting patiently on the counter top, Tony braiding a tiara into her hair.

“Not the blueberry princess?” Tony asked as he tied the braided hair under, pinning it in place with a hairpin he was holding between his teeth.

“No,” Tasha started to shake her head before stilling, freezing awkwardly as she remembered that her hairdresser wasn’t done yet, “Not blueberries.”

She had balanced two over her ear

"Why?" he asked even as his hands pushed back the woven leaf sash that was slipping down her shoulder, "What's special about cherries?"

Steve leaned against the wall and let himself take a minute to watch Tony listen intently to the explanations involving her superpowers being great memory and getting Jarvis to make cherry pies whenever she wanted. He had come home with a thousand possibilities in his head Tony being alone in his brooding, an impromptu trip that would bring no explanations when the man finally came back, or even coming home to silence that would last a few days.

Anniversaries and birthdays were always tough, especially today for the past four years. This time though, Steve had expected it to be more. This was the age Tony had last seen Morgan as and Steve had anticipated it to hit them hard. He had rushed through debrief before hurrying back, hoping that he could be there when the storm came.

Now watching him, Steve saw the grief manifest in affection and felt his lips quirk in a soft curve. Tony’s hands were quick, precise in a way that had handled circuits inside a miniature reactor, but his fingers were gentle in smoothing out any tangles.

There was no comparison between the two girls, there could never be, and Steve knew that it would always be a reality that there was a world where they had been different; they had had different futures planned.

The guilt would never be truly buried. The present could never be truly ignored either.

His eyes traced Tony’s smile when he finished the hairstyle and gave the little girl a high five. It had been an accepted fact under his soul that he had grown to see Tony more than just a companion for a new destiny. There were days when Tony’s laugh would make bruises from a fight ache less, his own eyes softening. He would pretend to drink salted coffee to watch Tony drink his own and then burst into a rant for half an hour, more than fifteen minutes of it spent laughing despite himself. They would sit in silence on the bad days, watching some documentary into the hours of the next day and Steve would let the quiet lodge in comforting rhythm between his heartbeats.

Maybe he had always walked towards this understanding. Maybe all those moments in the past when the world was different from Tony, where things were always more – more intense, more personal, more victorious – maybe there had always been more of Steve devoted towards loving Tony than he had expected.

Tony looked up from Natasha and his smile turned dimmed into something less than cheer for the sake of cheer. It shortened into something more Tony, a contrasting shade between home and an ever-present inner war.  

 _But you were his too,_ Pepper had said and Steve wondered why the world had seen it much before his own eyes could.

It was strangely liberating, being somebody’s, even if they didn’t know it.

Steve smiled and walked forward to see what time had given while he was away.

That night Natasha insisted on sleeping with both Steve and Tony, and they had dragged two mattresses to the living room after pushing the couch aside. There was a blanket the colour of a dark sky and Jan had gifted it to them the previous Christmas along with a set of blankets that had a celestial theme throughout it. The one Tony had brought with him that night had an intermesh of _Canis Major_ and _Canis Minor_ with the dotted outline of _Orion_ threaded in a paler blue.  

“I’m Orion,” Natasha said as she settled in between them, eyes droopy but her fingers smoothing over the blanket, “Can I be Orion?”

“Only if I get to be Canis Major,” Tony replied and Steve rolled his eyes even as he nodded.

“That’s fine,” he answered, whisper soft in the dark of the room, “Somebody’s got to represent the little guys.”

Tony’s hand brushed Steve’s where it rested over Natasha’s middle and Steve sent him a small smile over their little guest’s head.  Tony’s eyes flickered down, and Steve saw him swallow, but then his hand rested more firmly atop Steve’s and that was enough. It was warmth cupped in found hands.

That night Steve dreamt of foxes chasing hounds in the stars, a knight calling out to them with a bow of cherry wood in her hand.


	15. Chapter 15

The new batch of film lay peeled open

They never framed them and the collection now held the most mundane moments. His favourite was an out-of-focus teacup that meant nothing without context. It had been the day there had been a lightning strike too different to be considered normal and the team had been called in by Peggy. That was the day they had met Thor, a much different and yet same boisterous son of Odin, and Tony had resolved the situation by inviting him over for tea.

Steve had taken a picture of Thor’s teacup and it had become an inside joke between them.

Now as Steve blinked his eyes open, his eyes fell on the bedside table and he saw that the new batch of film sat there outside its pack.

“How’s the head?” he heard from his right and winced when his neck hurt as he turned to face the source of the voice.

“Can I exchange my brain for a new one?” Steve groaned and eyed the expression on Tony’s face as he sat in the dark grey suit that he had worn for the reception, “Did we win?”

“Against a tree? Nope. Sadly it still stands victorious,” Tony raised a brow when Steve attempted to get up and didn’t move a muscle as he failed, “Yeah, being old and human sucks, huh?”

Steve managed to shoot a weak glare but bit back the groan of pain as his entire body hurt. He didn’t need Tony to remind him of why he was in the state he was but it made sense why the man sounded exasperated. It had been just a week since his serum had been compromised thanks to the virus released by a new mad scientist who called herself Nightshade. Steve had been pulled from active duty immediately and been almost confined to a house arrest while Tony and Hank had worked furiously to figure out how to reverse the effect.

It wasn’t that Tony didn’t trust him to be capable without the serum, Steve knew that. In the six years they had shared each other’s secrets and the years in the past, Tony hadn’t discounted Steve’s capabilities or made him feel valued only for the muscles. There had been their first meeting, an eternity ago now, but even at the end of that Tony had respected Steve’s tactical abilities. He knew that he was more than just a lab experiment to Tony and that he could trust the man to treat him the same without the superhuman strength.

That hadn’t stopped him from getting annoyed with Tony and break out of home in a fit of stubbornness though. He would have gotten away with it too if he hadn’t attempted to take on a bunch of bank robbers on his own and gotten thrown into a tree as a result.

The only concession Steve had was that the robbers had been enhanced with advanced technological weapons and bodysuits. Somehow he gathered that it wouldn’t be enough to appease Tony right now.

“You’re nearing sixty,” Steve reminded and he was _not_ being petty.

“If we play the age card, you will lose so badly, it won’t even be funny,” Tony said lightly and finally took pity to stand up, leaning over to help Steve sit up and fluff the pillows behind him.

With his posture more comfortable, Steve got to observe the room better and saw the balloons tied to a hook on the door, the bouquet of white calla lilies and spray roses arranged in a vase with the occasional snapdragon peeking through, and a large casket of something that he just _knew_ Thor had sent.

“You bought flowers?” he asked and accepted the pills when Tony passed them from the tray on the seat beside him, popping them and drinking the water handed over to him, “Thanks”

“It’s the wedding bouquet,” Tony corrected and Steve looked at it again, “Apparently just catching it wasn’t enough and I had to take it with me too.”

“Did Pepper not have a bouquet?” Steve asked and smiled as he noted the sad face drawn on the balloon. It had to be Jan.

“We didn’t have a cake either,” Tony shrugged and eyed Steve’s face critically, “You look like shit. I can’t say I’m all that sad.”

“Oh, come on –”

“I was out for three hours,” Tony shot him a death glare, “Three hours, Steven.”

“First of all, it was five hours, and secondly I didn’t actually expect to run into bank robbers,” Steve pointed out but let out a sigh at the unimpressed look he got, “Did you get them?”

“Oh, I got a lot more than just them. I also got video footage of you trying to lecture a guy who was minutes away from throwing you,” Tony shook his head but his eyes looked faintly amused, “You know, just because I handled Wanda’s video of the park once does not mean that I’m always going to be handling embarrassing or incriminating footage.”

Steve opened his mouth to retort before the second part of the remark registered and his mouth shut with a click.

In all these years, there had been just two secrets Steve had kept from Tony. Both of them weren’t going to be fruitful, he had decided, and kept one of them locked in his heart while the other had been more physical. When he had left 2023, Steve had carried his compass to convince the Steve of 2012 but that hadn’t been the only item he had brought along.

He had never discussed the Wanda incident with Tony. It hadn’t come up in any conversation and he hadn’t thought about it for years. The only time he had ever said it out loud, in any intention of being heard by Tony, had been to a one-way machine that hadn’t ever served them in deeper communication.

The flip phone was supposed to be locked in his old suit, the one he never took out.

“We’ve been here six years,” Tony placed the half finished glass of water on the table before deciding to drink it completely, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find it?”

 _It was personal_ , Steve wanted to yell.

 _It was just mine_ , he wanted to accuse.

 _I didn’t want to push you away further,_ he wanted to explain.

“When?” he asked instead and the panic in his heart was mixed with hope, a foolish hope that Tony didn’t look betrayed or annoyed.

“Four years ago,” Tony replied, no trace of hesitance or guilt on his face, “The night before Natasha’s second birthday.”

Steve remembered Tony avoiding his eyes during the picnic, studiously making excuses to stay away. So that was because of this.

He also remembered every other time Tony had shared a fond look, despite this, despite having heard it all. And that – huh.

“I’m going to let you process all that now,” Tony stood up with a chuckle, “I’m guessing it’s going to take you a while.”

Steve nodded and then froze when Tony leaned down to brush a soft kiss to his forehead before standing back straight.

“Just thought I’d drop all the bombs at one go,” he quipped cheerfully before turning to leave, telling Steve that Hank would be there in an hour to talk to him.

An hour later, Hank found him in the same position of stunned quiet and almost called for help when he found the grin on Steve unsettling.

They fell into an unpredicted measure after that, one step still as Steve and Tony but the other ready to step into the _Steve & Tony_ beat. There were stolen peas from a dinner plate and a carefully arranged distance between limbs on the couch. Brushed off crumbs from a beard were easier than too stiff handshakes after missions. There was an exuberant lingering hug after the serum was restored but a quietly shared goodbye long before the moon visited.

Time nudged along life and fondness permeated its gaps with steady but slow footprints.

When Tony first created a new boundary, one far more closer than they had known before, they were at Gabe’s barbeque and Steve was handling the one dish he had always prided on being good at.

The crowds had moved into the shade and Steve was arranged the last of the burgers to carry over when he saw a hand pick one right off his plate. He leaned forward to snatch it back from Tony, a protest and a laugh ready to come when Tony easily turned his head.

The brush of lips against his made Steve blink, eyelashes brushing his cheeks, as he saw the irises of Tony’s eyes closer than he had ever gotten. Tony started to move back when Steve leaned forward and tried it again, this new experiment that felt better than he had imagined to be.

Tony’s eyes closed when Steve pressed one last kiss and opened slowly as he leaned back, a wickedly happy glint in his eyes.

“You like my burgers that much?” Steve asked, the first thought that came to mind and the brunet blinked before chuckling, one hand still holding the stolen piece.

“You slather well,” Tony laughed as the cheese dropped down his knuckles.

Their schedules wrapped around them and now they had some new rearrangements of dates, lunches at places where they could talk more than just work and the past, stargazing that meant hands held with purpose. Shopping for clothes had a few additional questions of _Would he like to see me in that?_ and _Can this be an outfit for what I’ve planned_? Steve’s eyes would linger on Tony’s arms in a particularly flattering suit and he wouldn’t hide it when Tony would notice. Tony would smirk with appreciation when Steve pulled out some specifically brilliant theory that the SHIELD scientists hadn’t considered for a case.

They evolved and circled, twisting around each other in an intricate DNA code that nobody else would be privy to. It was ingrained in them, this knowledge of the other’s presence and effect, and that became more recognizable to their senses.

It was love and life, eight letters finding companions between each other as they created more meaning than they did separately.

Steve was glad to have that privilege, of being allowed to have that space with Tony, when a technology convention in Japan fell under the strength of an earthquake, and with it fell Howard. It wasn’t the cold of December and the morning sun of a July day didn’t spread frost but there was ice lodged in Tony’s spine as they stood at the funeral, one year since he had first become eligible of offering a comfort more intimate than he had been in another life.

 They didn’t talk about the first time around, the first funeral when Tony had stood in place of Natasha. There was no space to mourn a past when the present had been shaken.

Natasha had stood beside her mother, too young to be asked to be anybody’s legacy and too famous to be exempted from it, and Tony stuck close to them through it all. Steve handled SHIELD, Peggy facing new threat for her position now that her strongest supporter was gone. They were both needed and they both came home with newer burdens every night.

That was when Tony got his glasses and Steve remembered a time when they had shielded him from those who would use the faintest vulnerabilities against him.

The one he had chosen now was plain, dark framed and clear glasses. It didn’t match his style, not the old one at least, but the frame still sat over his nose. A new mask in place.

Steve was resting a month later, sleeping in his room after a particularly long day, when he felt the dip on his bed and opened his eyes to see Tony sitting with a notepad in his hand.

“Hey,” he blinked his eyes and glanced at the clock on his bedside, “When did you get back?”

Tony stayed silent and Steve pulled himself up on his elbows, dragging the sheets off him as he eyed Tony, cataloguing anything physically wrong.

“Tony?” Steve rested against the headboard, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

He leaned to switch the night lamp on and turned to see Tony better, noting that he was still in the clothes he had worn when he had left to meet Maria in the morning.

“Before we moved to New York,” Tony spoke and Steve leaned back, noting the iron grip on the notepad, “Before you went guns blazing and exposed Zola, I met the man regularly. In the lab at New Jersey.”

Steve knew that. They had had one of their earliest arguments about it.

“He was a crazy bastard, but he kept his things in order,” Tony scratched at his forehead, his elbow resting on his thigh, “Everything had a method, everything its place. It drove me nuts sometimes but it made for a clean workspace and a lot of clear projects.”

Steve’s leg bumped against Tony’s back and he smiled slightly, bumping back before continuing.

“Anyway, he used to have this thing he did before anything new, this tic,” Tony inhaled and turned his face but didn’t meet Steve’s eyes, “He’d mutter this phrase under his breath and take a minute before getting to it. 5 Schritte zum ziel.”

“Steps to the goal?” Steve translated and Tony nodded, a chuckle escaping him.

“It was his personal map to get forward, to find the milestones that were important to him,” Tony explained and Steve’s eyes fell to the notepad, a picture forming in his head when Tony looked up to catch his gaze, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

“You have a goal?” Steve asked and stared at the notepad that Tony offered him, hand closing around it with a strange fluttering in his pulse. He flipped it open and there was a single page of writing, five bullet points under a title.

_Love :_

_Admit it_

_Offer it_

_Make it_

_Ask for it_

_Keep it_

 

Steve read the words over and over, till they rang in his mind as easily as his own name would find recognition. He had never thought that a piece of office stationery would have the power to reduce him to the barest form, to grind his walls into dust that were long awaited to meet their end.

“Are we at the third point or the fourth?” he asked and Tony was smiling too, a shade too vulnerable to be anything other than true.

“I thought we’d follow the order this time,” Tony suggested and Steve nodded like it made sense, because maybe it did. Maybe all the insanity they had lived through had some sense to it that was finally unfurling into this moment.

“You know we’re seated perfectly for the seven year itch?” Steve asked distractedly and Tony raised a brow.

“I could make a very tacky joke about itches and scratching,” he replied and Steve laughed, pressing a palm to his face that wouldn’t get the grin under control.

“I’m almost tempted to hear the joke,” he said before meeting Tony’s eyes with all the certainty, all the courage that he could muster, “But I think we can save it for later. You have a better suggestion at the moment.”

“We’re doing it then?” Tony turned completely, body open and vulnerable to Steve’s gaze and Steve held out a hand, catching Tony’s wrist to pull him in.

“Now, yes”

The world didn’t change just because they did, and sometimes Steve wondered if they actually did change at all. Tony was still Tony and he was still Steve, and they were still bound to the same composition of beliefs and being.

They were the same in many ways, except for the ways they weren’t.

There was the time when Steve wanted to welcome their tenth New Year with the resolution of going greener and had pledged to use a bicycle (that he still called bike and Peggy judged him for). Tony had been sceptical of the choice but had let Steve go with it, content with it as long as Steve didn’t drag him into it.

Which, Steve wouldn’t have if parking spots respected his choice.

“I’m sorry, sir, but this is reserved for vehicles only,” the guard at Janet’s fashion show repeated when Steve tried to find a spot for himself in the parking area.

 _A bike was still a vehicle,_ Steve frowned.

Tony didn’t say a word but his grin kept growing, engulfing his face with mirth that frankly, Steve thought, was disproportionate to his own annoyance.

Steve was moderately mollified when young Hope found her way into Tony’s car and ended up spilling juice all over the backseat.

There were also different, much more than they had anticipated, and it came up in the most unexpected ways.

The day Tony decided that they best way to celebrate their seventeenth anniversary was to adopt all of Nutmeg’s kittens, Natasha’s cat having birthed the most convincingly duplicitous spawns to exist – that was the end of one portion of Steve’s peace and sanity.

It had been cute for a while, the furry little devils keeping them entertained when they weren’t out on missions or meetings. But then there were days when both the kittens and Tony were in a mood specifically engineered to prevent Steve from closing his eyes.

He had spent the past forty minutes herding three spies of hell into their bed area and had walked back into the living room of their new apartment when his eyes caught the sight at the corner of the room.

Tony was sitting at his piano, courtesy of Maria’s enthusiasm when she had last heard him floor her guests into a frenzy. That was a nice sight, watching Tony play.

What didn’t fit into the nice section of Steve’s brain were the new entrants on the piano.   

There were two greys on his keys.

“I thought we caught them all?” Steve sighed as Tony ignored the question in favour of letting Chopin fill the silence, fingers speeding up to the fascination of the kittens.

It was pretty okay when cuddling with the kittens meant cuddling with Tony though, and that made the whole thing a pretty compelling situation.

Differences and similarities only made the whole thing more interesting though, and Steve was sure about it, about this being the goal of a five step plan he hadn’t set out to make. This was the destination he had travelled through three lifetimes to reach.

It was that confidence, the want to build upon it, that made Steve’s heart beat strong when Tony cheated at the Scrabble.

There was no way he should have had all those letters and Steve could see the smugness radiating from his partner of twenty years even as his eyes read the question again.

It was only the need to do this right, to make sure that he didn’t miss the moment, that stopped Steve from grabbing Tony’s face and pressing his indignation and joy into kisses.

 _This man¸_ Steve thought with a growing beat of excitement and acceptance echoing alongside his heartbeat, _This life_.

Steve looked down at his coins and calculated. He had the coins to win and picked one.

“That’s only six,” Tony said once Steve had arranged the blocks and looked up with something more than the bluff he was pulling. He was fond and that’s all that mattered.

Steve did give in to his urge of kissing him senseless.

 _Yes_.


	16. Epilogue

He sat in the car for fifteen minutes outside the hospital and nobody disturbed him there. In there he was just an old man with his silence and a death grip on the wheel.

The fact that his husband had thrown him out of the ward didn’t make any bit of difference.

Natasha had squeezed his hand, her ring hitting his own, but she had stayed back with her uncle. Tony had been very specific of when Steve could return.

After four days of trying to convince him otherwise, Steve had agreed and now he was here.

There wasn’t any real reason to panic, the doctors had taken pains to reassure him that endlessly. Extremis had done its job again and Tony was healing, albeit at a slower pace than he usually did.

But they had both seen more generations than anyone should have and there were more memories of death, real and unchanged, than this scare that was being treated.

 _There weren’t enough memories to die_.

The wheel was familiar under his fingers and he took a deep breath before turning the key into ignition. One final trip, he could do this.

“You’re sure about this?” Reed asked when Steve took his place in the base of the portal, the design different from when Tony had created it a lifetime ago.

“What could go wrong?” Steve laughed lightly, hefting the fresh shield in his hands and turned to address the Captain America who was staring at him with a worried expression, “I’ll be fine, son, don’t wear that look.”

“Tasha will find a way to kill me if you don’t come back safe,” the younger man said, a slight smile on his face, “So don’t forget your way home, okay?”

“I won’t,” Steve promised and used the time GPS that hadn’t touched his wrist in decades.

The view of the lake was stunning when Steve opened his eyes in a time that had been his only home once upon a time. He had landed beside the bench, a few good feet away from the spot he had left from, and Steve turned to see his old friends looking as young as he had last seen them.

He sat at the bench and waited, knowing that someone would notice.

Sam was emotional when he got the shield and his eyes widened when he caught sight of the ring on Steve’s finger. It was understandable. There had been a different world when he had thought himself unwilling or incapable of wearing it.

Now though, he just smiled and avoided telling him the name of whom it tied its devotion to.

“You’re going back?” Bruce asked when he took his leave two hours later, having said his goodbyes to everyone and a half-hour Skype call with Pepper.

“I am,” Steve smiled at Bruce, fingers turning his ring thrice in an acquired habit, “It’s home.”

When he used the device again, his eyes were open to one last look of a life he had finally given closure to. As much as he could, at least.

When he got back to the hospital, Natasha looked up from her chair and her eyes came to see his empty hands before smiling up at him.

“I’ll let you two get some rest then,” she said and kissed him on the cheek before leaving the room.

Tony was sleeping, blissfully ignorant of the last burden Steve had taken off his shoulder, and Steve sighed as he removed his jacket to hang it on the chair Natasha had just vacated. He considered sitting but then decided that he was more tired than that and made his way into the bed, slowly fitting himself against his husband till his head was right beside Tony’s.

“Did you do it?” Tony whispered and Steve smiled against his neck, one arm curling over his abdomen.

“Yeah”

“Good,” Tony sighed and brought up a hand to squeeze Steve’s fingers, “Hey, I never told you what Nat said. At Vormir.”

Steve breathed in Tony’s scent, the sheets warm under him and rubbed a hand over Tony’s stomach.

“Tell me after we wake up,” he suggested, patting a soft rhythm against Tony’s skin as his eyes closed.

There was a watch, Tony’s rings, and some coins that Steve had kept on the bedside before leaving, and it was the only companion to them as they rested. A time, change, and two memories.

 It was all they had, and all of them right at an arm’s distance.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts for this fic  
> 1\. ENDGAME SPOILERS! Tony lives and goes back in time instead of Steve. He first tries to just watch Steve but eventually interacts with the timeline and creates their happily ever after.
> 
> 2\. Tony carried the cell phone Steve gave him everywhere and every night, without fail, Tony received a message from Steve. Sometimes he replied, sometimes he did not, but he grows to love Steve in these late night messages.
> 
> 3\. Tony's reaction to bearded Steve
> 
> 4\. ENDGAME SPOILERS! Stolen moments while the team is preparing to collect the infinity stones.
> 
> Please tell me what you liked in the fic, what made you scream, and anything that made you want to continue reading till the end! Comments are the best and I'll always love them!


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